


BlueBelly

by MaruMaruOwl



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underswap, Belly Kink, Dissociation, Gen, Public Humiliation, Self-Harm, Stuffing, Weight Gain, cross-dressing, internalized fat shaming, magical organs, platonic skelebros, smoking warning, tw: eating disorder-like behaviors, tw: eating disorder-like thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-01 07:02:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 32,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6505966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaruMaruOwl/pseuds/MaruMaruOwl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Magnificent Sans simply cannot believe he's having these shameful problems... Too-tight clothes, accidental overeating...amassing a growing surplus of magical energy. But little does he know, his energy and his brother's powers... Together, they will rock the very foundation of their universe...and he'll literally eat his way to the truth.</p>
<p>*Additional tags and warnings to be added later!*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Don't Ever Expect Leftovers

**Author's Note:**

> HEAVY BELLY KINK AHEAD. IF THIS IS NOT YOUR THING, TURN AWAY!
> 
> So, this will be my longest "undertum" fic thus far, as I'm planning for multiple chapters--possibly 6-7. Underswap is my favorite Undertale AU, and I'm enjoying playing around with the universe as well as the kink. The actual plot won't get underway until the next chapter, but I definitely have a plan for this...
> 
> My concept of Underswap Sans and Papyrus is more like a hybrid of their personalities, so they're not just a simple personality/body exchange. It gives them more unique personalities. I think of them as being their own characters, very close to, but not exactly the same as, their original counterparts. Also, a lot of people depict Sans as still being the older brother, but I like to think their birth order also switched with their personalities. It's an entirely new universe, after all!
> 
> I broke a lot of my usual conventions for magical skeleton bellies with this fic--having them be a natural part of their bodies, especially. I thought I would never do that, but as it turned out, breaking my own rules turned out to be refreshing and inspired more creativity. 
> 
> This is also the first time I've fully used their speaking cases. I've usually written original Papyrus in all caps, but never written original Sans with all lowercase. It was painful for me (and for Microsoft Word), but it also kind of helped me with Underswap Papyrus's "voice".
> 
> Though it might not be obvious yet in the chapter, a huge amount of this fic was inspired by Sans' Sin Quest, an incredible story, equal parts stuffing smorgasbord and well-developed plot and character development. I highly, highly recommend you check it out, if you haven't done so already.
> 
> Enjoy the belly!

Chapter 1: Don’t Ever Expect Leftovers

 

Echoing through the ripples of time, amplified by the fuzzy muffle of blanketed snow, the dusky hue of the graying sky…one quiet, self-assured hum vibrated from the ribcage of a small being, completely enthralled in its self-appointed work. Soft blue gloves patted at the edge of a glistening block of transparent ice, nudging it into place. The crunchy carpet of snow bunched into little piles at the toes of matching blue boots as they dug in.

“ _Hmm-hmm_ , _mm-hmm_ …”

One more push… Finally, the huge ice cube sank ever-so-slightly into an apparent dip in the ground, bringing the latched-on creature with it.

“AH!” At last, he pulled back, triumphantly planting fists on his hips. “THE SETUP IS FINALIZED! FOR NOW AT LEAST! NOW FOR THE TRIGGER FUNCTION! MWEHEH!”

Anyone would be shocked and a little frightened to see this short skeleton happily tromping through the wintery landscape…but after all, this was the world of monsters—the Underground—and Sans the Magnificent was probably one of its least-threatening inhabitants.

A wide, toothy grin spread across Sans’s skull, large, round, blue lights twinkling excitedly in his equally round eye-sockets. As usual, he was out recalibrating one of his favorite puzzles—a construct made specifically to confuse and befuddle any human being that might happen to stumble into Snowdin. It would hopefully stymy them enough to allow him time to capture them for the Queen and the Royal Guard…though it was actually a lot of fun, and he hoped they had fun at the same time. Real-life, active puzzles like these were such a blast! It was Sans’s life ambition to become part of the Royal Guard… He looked up to them more than anyone—well, except maybe his big brother, Papyrus.

With another little chuckle of glee, Sans looked over the puzzle components—five ice blocks almost as big as his body, sitting in depressed slots that they would slide into through the snow.

“GLORIOUS AS USUAL!” he announced to the empty air, and grabbed his blue cape, tied like a bandanna around his neck, dramatically tossing it in front of his body. This amazing battle suit was his new favorite thing… It was a costume he’d made together with his brother, but no one else needed to know that. A thick grey undershirt and elliptical shoulder-pads… Deep blue pants and a set of matching, lighter blue boots and gloves… Not to mention this fantastic cape… Sans was so in love with it, he hardly ever took it off… He’d been wearing it for three straight weeks now.

With a thrilled little grin and a glow of soft blue magic at his round cheekbones, he patted at the scrunch of the cape resting at his chest and whirled around. Behind him, he knew where the final button lied embedded in the ground, covered by snow. It was his trump card—the last piece of the incredible puzzle he’d spent so much time on. It just needed one small adjustment—one little test.

Quick as a wink and filled with buzzing anticipation, Sans plopped to his knees right next to it, reaching down to wipe the layer of soft, mushy snow away.

“IH!” Suddenly, a quick, sharp little pain stabbed at his waist, causing him to wince. Unlike most other skeleton, Sans’s face was astoundingly expressive—parts of his skull were surprisingly malleable, especially around his mouth and eye-sockets—able to fold and tuck into whatever shape he needed. And right now, they were twisting his teeth into a downward frown, one socket creasing inward with pain and confusion.

Experimentally, he leaned further downward, stretching his torso…and the pain came again, another tiny cry emitting from behind his teeth. No… He had an inkling what was causing this now, and it was something he definitely didn’t want to think about. He was going to have to face it sometime…but why did it have to be now?!

With a robust sigh, Sans pulled back, resting back on his femurs and his tucked-in feet. And begrudgingly, he picked up the hem of his grey shirt, peeling it up with two pinched fingers.

There, sticking out from the bottom of his sternum and filling in the gap between the ribcage and the pelvis, was a translucent blue jelly-like substance, reflecting the low light at its shiny surface, cushioning around his spine. All skeleton monsters had a construct like this—it was a physical manifestation of the magic gluing them together, and a small cushioned sack with which to store extra needed magic ingested through food. After all, skeletons were said to be some of the most magically powerful monsters in existence—aside from Boss Monsters, of course. While Sans was fairly proficient at using magic, he knew his brother was miles ahead of him in terms of sheer force and ability.

Yet somehow, he contained almost twice as much of this physical, gelatinous magic as he did. It piled on top of itself, forming a puffy little round mound, which wobbled when he ran. Almost like a fake approximation of a fleshy belly…plush and round and chubby. Most of the time, he didn’t mind it—it was just a part of him, and he’d always been that way, as long as he could remember. And actually, the slight jiggling felt kind of nice on his bones—little reverberations tremoring through him. Sometimes, he wished he was more svelte, more muscular and stately-looking… People tended not to take him seriously, with his stubby, portly figure. Fortunately, it usually didn’t last for long—after all, he could be a legendary hero at any size! But lately…

Carefully, Sans ran his fingers down the front curve of his soft gel-cushion…and they stopped just at the lip of his pants’ waistband. They were…really tight, the fabric pulled taut and squeezing into the puffy swell of magic. The button holding them closed was practically creaking and groaning, desperately struggling not to give under the force of the pseudo-flesh jammed behind it. They were squeezing him too tight when he bent in…sharply cutting into the middle of that protrusion, as if threatening to slice it in two. No wonder it was causing him pain…that thing was still a piece of his body, and he had just as much feeling in it as any other part.

But _why…?_ This glorious battle body was less than a month old—it couldn’t have shrunken already! He never even put it in the washing machine—he preferred to wear it in the shower and wash it off while also washing himself. That left only one other uncomfortable option…….. _He’d_ gotten _bigger_. But _how_?!

Sans could feel heat flaring up around his cheekbones, magically flushing with embarrassment. These magical extensions usually only grew larger when they were glutted and over-saturated with magic for too long. He hadn’t been consuming _that_ much…had he?! No, no, it had to be some sort of shrinkage effect from the shower…the material probably hadn’t been equipped to handle that sort of soaking and re-stretching.

_You’re just trying to deny it_ , a voice at the back of his mind said…but he chose to ignore it, desperately creating false explanations. Making up stories was something he was pretty good at.

Anyway, he definitely needed to do something about these pants if he wanted to actually get anything done now. Very, very gingerly, he inched the squeezing waistband down… sliding down, down…twinging with a little bit of pain…

“Uff!” Sans couldn’t help sighing when it finally popped off, situated around the very bottom of his pelvis now, letting the cyan blue sack hang freely and unrestrained. Oh, the relief from that pressure was heavenly. Though his hand slightly trembled, he pressed and rubbed over the area where it had been pinching him, finding the surface a little sore.

“PHEW!” He exclaimed aloud to himself. “THAT COULD HAVE BEEN BAD! BUT IT’S ALRIGHT NOW! I FOUND THE SOLUTION! MWEHEHEH!”

Reassured, Sans yanked his shirt back down and fixated back on the remainder of his puzzle. At last, he swept the powdery surface away, revealing a metal button about the size of a bathroom scale. It would depress when a human stepped on it, bringing his maniacal design to life and shuffling the ice blocks At least, that’s what he hoped—it hadn’t been completely tested yet.

Slamming his hands over it only caused a slight tremor and made them jitter in their slots. Hmm…what was wrong?

“OH, RIGHT!” Sans laughed at his foolishness, pushing himself back to his feet. “IT’S BECAUSE I’VE ALREADY SOLVED IT! NATURALLY! LOOKS LIKE I’M ONE STEP AHEAD OF MYSELF!”

His hands rested automatically at his hips—just a regular cool pose for him…but something felt weird. Specifically, something felt _squishy_.

Glancing downward, another magical blush pushed up over his face when he finally got a good look… Sure, it didn’t hurt anymore…but his magic belly-sack was showing, the lower part of it poking out below the hem of his shirt—a round little translucent curve.

“AAAAAAGH!” His frustrated cry echoed down the snowy cliff-side. That hadn’t been the proper solution at all. He’d relieved his pain, but he couldn’t go on like _this_! Look how sloppy and shameful he was, hanging out of his clothes like this! Disgusting. This was no way for a future Royal Guardsman to dress!

“NNNN…” His fingers clenched around the waistband, tugging it up… Up…UP?! It wouldn’t budge. It had moved up a centimeter and then just…stopped.

With the deepest inhale he could manage, Sans tried to flatten the little belly-thing, sucking it in as far towards his vertebrae as possible. Even then, he only managed to move the waistband another tiny centimeter. A little gap of the blue was still visible under his shirt.

His cheeks were _burning_ by now, and he really just wanted to burrow himself in a snow pile. Become a snowman. Other monsters often said he looked more like a creature made of snow or marshmallows than a skeleton made of solid bone, anyway.

A pitiful whine whistled out from between his teeth—which he immediately reprimanded himself for. _Why_ was he having these problems?! Someone as wondrous as he shouldn’t have to deal with things like this!

Finally, Sans just decided to open the stupid button. It was practically screaming and begging for release…he would just be putting it out of its misery.

“FF-HOO!” The wonderful feeling of relief flooded him again, and he had to admit that it was amazing. The small zipper of the fly unzipped itself right after, the flaps bending around the little puff of magic substance that slightly swelled out, making itself comfortable. Now maybe…

Tugging up on the open waistband, Sans managed to lift it to his waist again, though it certainly didn’t even come close to meeting itself. However… Pulling down with all his might, he managed to stretch his shirt out, reaching the hem to the very bottom. There!

With a huge, ecstatic grin, he noticed that the blue was finally completely covered! While his shirt felt extra stretched-out, and it would probably slide back up again if he so much as lifted his arms to his shoulders, it was finally concealed and comfy enough to work in. He’d just have to keep checking on it and pulling it back down.

“AHA! ANOTHER VICTORY FOR THE MAGNIFICENT SANS! CLOTHING SHALL NOT BE MY DEFEAT ON THIS DAY! AND IT NEVER SHALL! …STRANGE, WHEN WE MADE THIS BATTTLE BODY, I DID NOT IMAGINE THAT IT WOULD BATTLE _ME_!” He was talking out loud to himself again…but he was his own best audience, anyway.

Breaking into delighted hums and little chuckles of “mweehee!”, Sans set about the task of moving the ice blocks yet again. He was strong, yes, but they were almost as big as he was, and it took quite a while to drag them to the desired locations. A lot of things would be so much easier if only he was as tall as Papyrus. Yet, Papyrus squandered his vertically-gifted body by doing as little with it as possible. Sometimes, Sans wished they could switch bodies, just for a little while, so he could get things accomplished. Oh, well. Doing all the things he did as his size just made him all the more incredible!

Two, three blocks all set… Two more to go. Taking a breather, Sans leaned against the last one he’d pushed, wiping the forehead of his skull. Happy sweat of a good day’s work. Ahhh, it felt so satisfying. But suddenly…

A little rolling, bubbling feeling came from somewhere within him, and a strange noise reached his hearing sense. _Rrrggl grrm…_

A hand automatically pressed to the center of his pseudo-stomach, which he’d identified as the source of the noise. It did that sometimes…sometimes when it was starting to run low on magic, maybe as a sort of warning or a protest. Whatever it was, it was a definite sign that he needed to eat.

“I’M HUNGRY?” he questioned. “WHAT TIME IS IT? FOR HOW LONG HAVE I BEEN WORKING?”

Though he felt his clothing shuffle and a tiny sliver of blue peek out, he rummaged through his pocket and extricated a tiny, round pocket-watch. Papyrus had given it to him at Gyftmas one year—he’d apparently found it in Waterfall and fixed it up. And for Papyrus to actually do anything was simply astounding.

“SIX?!” Sans cried in alarm, jolting away from the ice block previously under his elbow. “FOR TRULY TRUTH?! AAAAAAAAAAAHHH! I MUST GET HOME AND PREPARE DINNER! I BET MY BROTHER IS STARVING, WAITING FOR ME ALL THIS TIME!”

Barely taking the time to stuff the clock back in his pocket, he broke into a frenzied sprint, boots pounding over the snow and kicking up white dust. “OHGOODNESS OHGOODNESS OHGOODNESS!! GRACIOUS ME!! HOW DID LOSE ALL TRACK OF TIME?! I’M THE MOST IRRESPONSIBE CHEF!!” The rest of the puzzle would have to wait until tomorrow—some things were a little bit more important.

And as Sans sped off, through the wintery area, past fluffy white dogs and snowflake-headed birds, over fields of ice and painted-on bridges and tired jets of howling wind he’d set up himself…knots of excitement and anticipation twisted through his gelatinous middle. Dinner time was almost here!

(-)

When Sans finally arrived at the log cabin he shared with his brother in Snowdin Town, Papyrus was standing around outside as usual, staring blankly into the sky and lazily puffing on a cigarette. Sans wished he would give up that filthy habit, but at least he was honoring his wishes and not doing it in the house.

The taller, older skeleton had his hands stuffed into the front pockets of his orange hoodie, and he wore a pair of baggy khaki shorts and floppy sneakers. The cigarette was clenched in his long, large teeth, nearly breaking apart, and his small, oval eye-sockets were unfocused. Oh no, no, no, no—he better not be upset or disappointed that Sans was so late!

“PYRUS!!!” Sans practically screeched, once he was in view, only slowing his panicked dash by a margin. “DINNERTIME!! I’M LATE I’M LATE I’M SORRY! I GOTTA START THE TACOS!!”

“eheh.” Papyrus’s sockets turned towards him now, back in the present, and he genuinely smiled. “chill, bro, it’s fine. just “taco” your time.”

“THAT WAS HORRENDOUS AND YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED!”

Papyrus shrugged. “just wait “tortilla” i get going.”

“YOU’RE LUCKY I LOVE YOU!” Sans ploughed straight through the front door, zoomed to the kitchen, and screeched himself to a halt right in front of the stove, arms flailing and catching his balance.

“Hah…hah…” He huffed, out of breath from all that running…but his eyes were still lit up brilliant blue and sparkly, his toothy grin taking up nearly half his face. “EEEEEEEEEE, TACO TIME!!”

Next to puzzles, and his brother, of course, tacos were Sans’s favorite thing in the whole universe. In a whirl of over-excited activity, he whipped on an apron, tossed pans and plates and utensils onto the counter, and rubbed his gloved hands together, looking over his glorious workspace. “COOKING TIIIIIME, COOKING TIIIIIME…”

Since the Royal Guard Captain, Alphys, had started teaching him how to prepare food, cooking had become another of his favorite activities. It was sooooo fun, and left you with something soooooo yummy at the end! How could anyone find it boring?! Well, Papyrus would probably say that it was way too much effort, when he could just pop something into a microwave instead, but the effort was _part_ of what made it taste so delicious!

Sans slammed open the refrigerator and pulled out a large hunk of something pink and mushy, wrapped in plastic wrap. Synthetic beef, processed from various plant materials and vegetables. Almost all monsters were vegetarians, mostly because eating an animal would be too close to eating one of their own kind…….but that didn’t mean they couldn’t indulge in meat-like tastes, expertly produced in Hotland laboratories! Alphys provided him with a lot of his taco meat, which she said she stocked up from a friend living near those labs. The slab today was a bit larger than his usual package—this time, he planned on having leftovers, that way Papyrus could still eat, even when he wasn’t around to cook a fresh batch.

With a merry hop, Sans plopped the meat substitute onto the counter, and then slid a plastic stepstool over between his feet. The plastic squeaked a little as he stepped onto it, but it gave him a much greater vantage point from which to work. Cooking while barely being able to reach the counter was a little too much of a challenge…

And at last, he set about the thrilling, joyous task of creating a vast number of his very favorite treat, a fluttering little hum effortlessly floating out of him. Unwrapping the cool meat, chopping and mincing and fluffing, plopping it into the frying pan, dousing it in oils and just a little dash of pepper. Then came his absolute favorite part.

Twirling and waving his hands and humming along to a beat only heard in his head, Sans dug two spatulas into the pan, mixing and tossing and shaking the huge clump of ground-up fake-beef. A few tiny pieces of it splattered against his chest, but that was okay—that was what the apron was for, after all!

The poor little plastic stool shuddered and squeaked underneath his movements. He was practically dancing around on it, though it was a good thing he didn’t try to jump, or else it would have collapsed for sure.

The clumps were quickly browning, frying to perfection, and a heavy, oily, warm aroma filled the house, so thick and overwhelming that Sans’s magical stomach made eager little rumbly sounds again. Almost theeeeeeere…

A _click_ announced Papyrus’s re-entry, apparently finished with his smoke break. His lanky body paused in the doorway, lifting his skull and deeply sniffing through his nasal cavity. “smells pretty good, bro.”

“OF COURSE! IT IS MAGNIFICENT MEAT, EXPERTLY SEASONED BY THE MAGNIFICENT SANS! ALL FOR CREATING THE MOST TREMENDOUS TACOS THE WORLD HAS EVER SEEN! THE SCENT ALONE SHOULD DEFINITELY LEAVE YOU SALIVATING IN RATUROUS AWE!”

“but we don’t even have saliva, dude.”

“SPEAK FOR YOURSELF.”                                                                              

Before he could change his mind, Sans flung one spatula to his mouth…and a tiny, stubby, blue, jellified tongue poked out from between his teeth, taking a little lick. It was made from the same substance as his stomach, and though it wasn’t necessary at all to his system, it served to extend his sense of taste, adding just a little more of that physical dimension to it. Every skeleton monster could do that as well, though…most chose not to.

“yeah.” Papyrus shrugged again in response. “too much work for me. it takes enough effort just to chew.”

“GOOD GRACIOUS, CAN YOU GET ANY LAZIER?!”

“…probably. but that would also take effort.”

Sans rolled his round, blue eye-lights and continued patting at his mound of frying meat.

“call me when ‘s ready.” Papyrus trudged over to the lumpy red couch in the center of their living room, curling his long body onto it. “’mgonna take a nap.”

“OH MY GOD, IT’LL BE READY IN FIVE MINUTES!”

“welp, that’s five minutes that i could spend asleep.”

“OH MY GOD.” Sans fiercely shook his skull. The heck with him. If he wanted to sleep away this moment of miraculous creation, well then, his loss.

His body was quivering and tingling with excitement as he turned down the stove, leaving the meat lump to warmly simmer, and hopped off his stool to gather the rest of the ingredients in a whirlwind of glee. Tomato pieces and cheese shreds and lettuce leaves and beans and onion strings and guacamole and sour cream and hot sauce and even more melty cheese… A veritable smorgasbord of toppings was spread out onto the small table they usually shared meals at, and Sans felt the knot of hunger squeeze through him again at the sight of it all. Today, he’d decided to do it buffet-style. They could make up their tacos however they wanted them—though Sans knew he’d be having some of everything, because it was just too good to choose between a few.

Then came the shells—two long stacks of them, one crunchy, the other softer and mushy. Sans loved both hard tacos and soft tacos, but he at least wanted to offer his brother a choice. And maybe have a little of each, because they were both so good.

Plates and bowls and serving forks and napkins were set out, and he continued humming and twirling as he did so. Each topping sat heaping out of its little plastic tub, tantalizing, glistening mounds of goodness. At last, he flicked off the stove and scraped the beef from the pan, creating a fluffy brown mountain of meaty heaven…and plonked it down in its heavy bowl at the very center of the table.

“TACOS!!!!!” Sans practically shrieked, leaping for joy in the doorway and flailing to catch his sleepy brother’s attention. “TACOS ARE READY! PYRUS, GET UP! _TACOS_!!!”

“yeh, yeah, okay, i heard ya. good thing i don’t have eardrums, huh?”

Slowly moving his long limbs, Papyrus stretched back up, rubbing one small, tired-looking eye-socket. But at the sight of his overexcited little brother, he couldn’t help but grin, resting bony elbows to bony knees. “little overzealous maybe? we have tacos every day, bro.”

“BUT IT’S EXTRA SPECIAL THIS TIME!!” Little Sans was bouncing as Papyrus lethargically made his way to the kitchen. “BEHOLD!” As soon as his oversized sneaker stepped past the threshold, Sans zipped to the head of the table, sweeping his cape and his apron out wide towards the spread, for dramatic revealing effects.

“ah, so you’re doing a make-your-own kinda deal? nice. how very thoughtful.”

“NATURALLY!! LEAVE IT UP TO THE GRACIOUS AND BENEVOLENT SANS! MWEEHEE!!”

The small skeleton’s eye-sockets screwed closed, round cheekbones bluer than ever. He was just way too excited for this, and Papyrus couldn’t help chuckling at it. It was amazing, how hyped up he could get over something as simple as tacos. Privately, he wished he could have just a fraction of that sort of joy for the world. That was probably why he loved to see his brother this way, more than anything.

At last, Papyrus sat at his side of the table, half-slumped and loose. “can’t wait to dig in. i know my bro is one _shell_ of a good cook.”

“YOU ARE EGGS-ACTLY CORRECT!” Sans was too ecstatic to scold him for the pun, or to even notice that he’d replied with a pun in return, though it had nothing to do with tacos. Swiftly, he removed his apron, sliding it through the fridge handle, as a reminder to wash it later. And he threw himself into his seat, almost vibrating from the sheer overstimulation.

“alright.” Papyrus leaned easily across the table, taking up his first hard shell and sliding over the small tub of green. “ _lettuce_ begin this taco night!”

“MWEHEHEHEHEH!” Sans ravenously set about composing his own tacos, briefly standing up in his chair to reach everything. Papyrus pushed containers over towards him when he could, since he’d already fixed up his first one.

As he put together his tacos—two hard and two soft to start—Sans’s small tongue poked out with concentration. It was taking all of his willpower to wait until they were fully finished—part of him wanted to smush it all together and eat it right now, straight out of the bins.

The first taco was piled up with nearly every topping, a few bits of lettuce and a couple of beans tumbling out of the overstuffed shell. The next featured hot sauce and extra cheese—a hot, cheesy special. The next—onions and sour cream, evening it out. Then finally another fully loaded shell, bursting with flavor. Sans could feel his tummy bubbling inside him with eager hunger. It softly grumbled again, as if pleading for the tasty food in front of it. At last, they were done!

“ _MMMMMM_!” Sans exclaimed, as the very first big, crunchy bite filled every corner of his mouth. Oh, it was pure ecstasy. Incredible, spicy, crumbly, delicious relief. His round face was glowing as he devoured the first heaping taco, munching and mumbling delighted noises against the influx of yummy sustenance.

From the opposite end, Papyrus was chuckling through a slowly chewing mouthful. He ate about thrice as slow, only about halfway through the taco he’d made, though Sans was already starting on his second. “that good, huh? i shouldn’t be surprised.”

“MM-HM!” Sans’s emphatic agreement was muffled by another eager mouthful of taco—this one squishy and melty and divine. Beneath him, the gnawing little sore spots in his stomach were being soothed away, placated by the little dollops of magical substance being deposited into it. The hungry feeling wasn’t completely gone yet, but the desperation was edging away, and it felt oh so wonderful.

In just a few more bites and a gulp, the second taco had disappeared into him, and he snatched up the third, squishing it straight into his face and giggling in mirth.

Meanwhile, Papyrus was having a great time just watching this… The sight of his dear little brother so incredibly happy…it warmed the insides of his heart, bringing it back to life again, reminding him that he still had feeling, he still had affection deep in there. Little Sans’s blissful, blushing face, munching and crunching through his own cooking filled him with happiness in return. That face was practically what he lived for. His brother’s happiness was all he needed for his life to feel fulfilled.

Soon enough, Sans was fixing up four more tacos, slightly less overstimulated now, but still just as ecstatic. The end of taco number five for him equaled the end of taco number one for Papyrus. The two skeletons barely spoke, happily eating away in the warm, bright kitchen, and just basking in the comfort of each other’s company.

Gradually, Sans eased into a steady pace, just pushing one delicious bite after another past his teeth. His hunger had all smoothed away, leaving him with just the addictive push for _more_. More of that taste, more of that texture, more of that motion, the comfortable repetitive motion of chewing and swallowing.

Taco number six went down, loaded with guacamole, then squishy taco seven, extra cheese and sour cream squirting across his cheekbones as he bit into the puffy pocket of tasty beef and tomato and so much cheese. His fingers delicately pinched around number eight, lifting it to his teeth with tender reverence, briefly licking at a drop of sauce that had spilled over the edge. Nibbles and crunches and smooth, piping, poking taste…folding little scraps in…feeling each tumbling into small bundles of magic, tiny packets buzzing with potential… So yummy, so yummy, so good, _so_ good, so perfect… He never wanted this to end.

At last, Sans halted when his second plate turned up empty, and he took a brief pause, glancing across the table to see how his brother was doing. He hoped he was enjoying it just as much as he was!

“……….Uh…?” Sans’s heart sank when he noticed something…kind of distressing. His blue eyes widened in their black sockets, his mouth stretching downwards, moldable brow knitting with concern. “P…PYRUS? ARE YOU ALRIGHT? IS IT NOT…GOOD ENOUGH?”

Half of an uneaten taco rested on Papyrus’s plate, and he was busy idly sliding through text on his cell phone, eyelids starting to droop. “huh? oh.” At the sound of his voice, he looked up, immediately brightening as much as he usually ever did. “nah, it’s _great_ , sans. it really is. this is probably your best taco night yet—it’s really delish. i’m just not all that hungry, is all. can’t seem to stomach a second one. my belly’s just as lazy as the rest of me.”

A wide, toothy grin accompanied his proclamation, and so Sans recognized the expression as earnest and truthful. He wasn’t covering up his dislike of the tacos…he just really didn’t want to eat anymore.

With an annoyed huff, Sans crossed his arms across his chest. “I SWEAR—THOSE NOXIOUS FUME STICKS OF YOURS ARE RUINING YOUR APPETITE! HOW MANY TIMES NOW HAVE YOU REFUSED MY FOOD JUST BECAUSE YOU’VE BEEN OUT THERE, DOING THAT? YOU CAN’T LIVE ON _SMOKE_ , YOU KNOW!”

“yeah, i know…” Papyrus turned away for a second, looking slightly forlorn. “maybe someday, okay? in some world, i’ll surely manage to quit.” A moment, later, his grinning face turned back to him, winking with delight and encouragement. “so it’s a good thing you’ve got enough appetite for the both of us.”

Hot, glowing blue blush bloomed over Sans’s round little cheekbones, and his wide eye-lights shifted down towards the edge of the table, shyly. “…I DON’T EAT _THAT_ MUCH…”

No, he didn’t…did he? Six tacos really wasn’t too much—it was just a normal meal. Wait…he _had_ eaten just six, right? It was six, wasn’t it…?

“sans…” Papyrus softly reached a hand towards him, a gentle gesture expressing his care and concern. He hadn’t meant to upset him—it was just a little joke, a little friendly jibe at him. The last thing he ever wanted was to make him self-conscious. “it’s really healthy for you to eat a lot. you need a lot of energy—lots of energy for you to perform your feats of brilliance! i don’t do nothin’, so i seriously don’t need it.”

”HMMM…” Sans paused to consider this angle, rocking slightly in his seat as he mulled it over. “…I SUPPOSE THAT MAKES SENSE.”

“sure does.” Reassured, Papyrus retracted his arm, tucking it back into his hoodie. With a little tilted nod of his head, he indicated the remaining mound of beef and taco shells. “if ya want anymore, go ahead. bone appetit.”

“…I SHALL IGNORE THAT HORRENDOUSLY UNINSPIRED PIECE OF WORDPLAY FOR NOW… BUT YES, I THINK I CERTAINLY WILL!”

Sans’s fingers tingled and trembled in his gloves as he put together his next piled-up plate of tacos. Who cared if he had a big appetite? Athletes and warriors and soldiers usually did. It was only fair compensation for the amount of labor they put into their jobs each day. To keep healthy and robust!

Newly emboldened, he scooped up a fresh crunchy-shelled taco and rapidly bit through it, chomping its bounty down into tiny shreds before it transmuted into goopy magical substance on the way down. _More…_ More, more! More to come! It never needed to stop.

Giddy with food-induced bliss, Sans slipped back in his chair, pulling his plate to the very edge of the table, and carried on nibbling and sucking and crunching and giggling his way through each carefully-crafted taco.

From his new vantage point across the table, Papyrus’s brow slightly raised. Baggy orange sleeves folded across the table, slightly leaning in to get a better look. Huh. Apparently, Sans hadn’t even noticed yet, but…

The soft, bluish light of his round little magic tummy was poking out between the flaps of his opened pants (when had that happened?), and nudging his grey shirt upwards a tad. The gentle light of all the food energy churning within it was kind of soothing. It looked beautifully content……it looked _full_. But Sans was still lost in his dreamy paradise of spicy tastiness, pushing handfuls of taco into him as if it was still empty.

Nevertheless, Papyrus decided not to say anything—he’d already upset him enough. And honestly, he loved seeing him eating to his heart’s content like this…heedless to the rest of the world around him and completely focused on his own pleasure.

Another taco disappeared…then another…and the exposed gap of skelly belly seemed to grow a little wider.

“ _Hmmp_! Ufff… _Ih_!” He had to notice it now…right?

Sans was emitting strange, soft little noises, panting a tiny bit and pulsing, gulping and mumbling. There was no way he couldn’t feel the amassed energy of a dozen tacos swirling within him. But no…

With a little grunt and a huff, Sans rolled himself forward, the crest of his belly lightly bumping the table…and began fixing up even _more_ tacos, loading up the shells with scoops and scoops of the remaining fillings, though he was moving noticeably slower now.

Even though he felt a little bit heavy, Sans beamed at his newest plate once it was done, delighted blue dust flecking his cheekbones. Sitting back again with a weighty sigh, he picked up the next taco, considering a moment.

Less than a second later, he was lifting the entire plate, tipping it in towards him…and his face met the cascade of crunchy, crumbly, yummy pieces, letting them tumble into his mouth and munching, munching, munching them down. The magical contents of his feast pressed down into the already overfilled little sack, and as each taco gradually plopped inside, it bulged and stretched a little further. That shirt slowly inched its way up as the roundness underneath it slowly expanded, like a swirly, glowy, heavy balloon.

Quiet moans mumbled from Sans between his inundated gulps and chomps. The membrane of his magic belly was getting tight, as it struggled to make some more room. Yet, he still continued filling it, at a slow, but steady, even pace.

By the time the plate was finally empty, that magic-filled belly was almost halfway exposed, his shirt bunching up at his chest, the hem almost at the bottom of his ribcage. Or…where his ribcage would be, if it were still visible through the densely-packed parcel of blue substance grumbling at his waist.

Sans’s eyes half-closed, sleepily, and he panted and licked a couple of stray dollops of sour cream from the edges of his stretchable jaw. Was…that it? Was that all? Was it done? He didn’t want it to be over—he’d loved every second of it.

He felt so… _warm_ , now, and heavy. It was a little weird, but very, very comfortable. He could go on eating tacos forever like this, if only…

Curiously, Sans turned his head down to the table to see what else was left… Only two more taco shells were sitting in their plastic package…only a _little_ bit of the meaty mush seemed to be left in the bowl. Just a little.

He…might as well…finish it off, right? It’s just a bit…

“ _RRRRRRF_!”

Hiding his flabbergasted expression behind a sleeve, Papyrus watched as Sans hauled his bloated little body forward once more, exhaustedly filling in the two remaining taco shells with most of what remained in the tubs. He was actually going to eat them?! He looked stuffed to the gills… But apparently, he either didn’t notice or just didn’t care.

Strange, when he’d been whining about not having a big appetite earlier. But secretly, he thought he should make sure not to tease him about it again, if this was how much he naturally wanted to eat.

With more grunting and little moans and one tiny, quiet hiccup, Sans finally grasped the completed tacos, overstuffed with everything that was left, and eased himself back against his chair, not even bothering with a plate this time. They rested on the swollen top curve of his taco-stuffed tummy…soon to join their brethren.

Though his bright eyes were hazy and drowsy, he softly chuckled as he gazed down at the fat little tacos, affectionately. His precious prize…the very last ones. And then…he pushed the end of the first one into his mouth.

“Mmmmnnnhh…” It wasn’t so easy for him to swallow anymore, and bits of squishy meat and beans and lettuce spread over his teeth, unable to find enough room in his mouth. But slowly…lethargically…completely enraptured in this moment…he sucked it down. Piece by piece…little scrap by scrap…

“Nnnnfff…” Sans moaned as soon as the last piece pushed inside, his cheeks bulging to contain the last bite… But his hands immediately lifted the second taco, poising it ready for when he could swallow this one down.

Papyrus could see the gooey, viscous substance shifting and gently rolling within him, pushing itself around in order to welcome even more inside. Pressing up against the resilient walls of its membrane. More.

With moans and gulps and little gurgling noises from his unhappy, stretching tummy, Sans laboriously made his way through the final taco. A short breath, and his shirt flipped all the way up, resting at the curve just where the inflated blue ball jutted out from his ribs. More.

Pressing, squeezing, stuffing, jamming, hotly squishing… More.

With a _smack!_ , the final bite popped into his mouth, his fingers chasing after it. And with one final heave…it went in.

“Mmm…” Sans’s skull flopped back against the chair, completely spent. His sockets rolled closed. And his big, round belly rested heavily on his femurs, so tight and ripe and glutted with food.

Frankly, Papyrus was impressed…and a little worried. This wasn’t the first time this had happened, by any means. In fact, ever since moving to Snowdin, Sans had been eating to excess… But this was still a pretty big binge for him…

For a few silent moments, he just let him rest, enjoying the sight of him basking in his own overindulgence and listening to the intermittent burbles of that engorged tummy-sack rolling its squeezed contents around. It was nice, though…to see him this way. He knew that Sans didn’t overeat out of any sense of depression or emptiness…but just because he was so happy and so overzealous about food. It was a sign of such happiness and contentment…and though it might be a problem if it happened _too_ often, it was still a wonderful sight to see.

Finally, with a heavy heart, he knew it was time to actually get things moving, as much as he’d love to just sit here forever, himself. “……hey, sans?”

“…..uh?” Sans’s eye-sockets cracked open, the blue lights gradually growing. “Hfff…uff…um…w-what…?” His voice was winded and much, much softer than normal. But it seemed he was “waking up” now…coming back from his taco-induced trance.

Those eyes widened…innocently blinked once…and all of it fell down on him, like the hefty weight in his gut. “U-uh, uh, a-a-ahhh…Ah!” Blush flared into existence across his face, spreading out and deepening, almost reaching all the way up his skull. His limbs began to tremble, his brows molding and knitting upwards. His gloved hands fumbled with the bunched fabric of his shirt, yanking it down his bulbous middle as far as it would go…which was only to the indent of his phantom bellybutton, before it quickly began creeping upwards again. Poor Sans was furiously flushing and beginning to sweat, desperately humiliated by the state he found himself in.

With careful, yet scrabbling movements, he pushed his bulk up in the chair, sitting straight again, which caused his belly to squish outward another centimeter. “ _Llp, ooff_ … Oowww…m-my belly…” At last taking heed of the offending construct, Sans moved his hands, gently cupping its bloated mass and very lightly rubbing at it in circles. “H-H-How much…” _Gasp._ “How much did I eat?”

“ummmmm…” Papyrus turned his skull, lazily surveying the messy tubs and plates and empty plastic wrap strewn over the expansive table. “everything. pretty much. aside from my one and half, that’s like eighteen tacos.”

“Ahhhhhhh…!” Sans’s rubbing grew a little more vigorous and purposeful, trying to soothe the pain of his too-tight magical membrane…pain that he was only now truly noticing. It was so achy and pinching and hard… Packed-tight magic substance bubbled and churned under his fingers, producing little noises, as if grumbling in complaint at having to work so hard.

“And I… _uhh_ …wanted to have…leftovers… W-Why’d I have to… _ihff_ …go and eat all of it…”

Papyrus shrugged. “looked like you were enjoying yourself.”

“ _Rrrrrgh_!” With an angry shove, Sans forced himself to his feet, though he winced in pain and held on to his tummy as it heavily hung out of his pants. “G-gotta…gotta clean this up…”

One shaking hand reached for the nearest empty tub, but in flash, Papyrus was bending over him, snatching that hand away. “relax, bro. we can take care of that later. you’re in pain right now, and you need to rest. you’re just going to make yourself sick if you try to do all that now.”

“B-But…” Sans’s large eye-lights dropped to his big balloon of a belly, weakly giving it a massage. His body’s trembling intensified…droplets of pastel blue began to well up at the bottom edges of his sockets. “I-I-I-I-I…I-I…I got FAT, Papyrus! I’m FAT! I’m so fat…”

“shhhh. calm down, sans…” In desperation, Papyrus gently clutched Sans’s shoulders, hoping to stop him before he worked himself up so much that he ended up making all that magic come back out. “shhhh, you’re not…”

“Y-you can’t say I’m not fat! I just ate _eighteen_ tacos, for goodness’s sake! EIGHTEEN! Ow…!”

Clenching in, Sans cradled his stuffed roundness, dangerously shaking…and Papyrus pulled him closer, bringing him into a very gentle, loose hug. “sans, it’s _fine_. it’s totally fine that you eat a lot. hey, like i said, you need it. you need all the magic, and all the food, you can get. all that’s gonna come in real handy when a human comes. just you see…”

“P-pyrus… _hic_!” A few tears spilled over, but Sans’s trembling was lessening. “B-But…but I can’t… _uff_ …fit into my pants anymore… This morning, I… They were…t-too tight, and I… _ic_! I…”

“who cares?” Squeezing his fingers a little, Papyrus massaged his distressed little brother’s shoulders, offering a caring, gentle grin. “’sjust clothes. i break my clothes all time. i used to outgrow my clothes like every month, remember? we’ll make some new ones soon, alright? promise.”

“Mm…Pyrus….” A few more little tears chased the first ones down the curves of Sans’s face. But at the same time, a trace of a smile was beginning to break out. The shaking was settling, smoothed away with care and reassurance. “…thanks… _Ilp_!”

“let’s get you onto the couch to rest for a little while.” With a final small pat to his back, Papyrus pulled back and curled around, one arm wrapping down around the back of his shoulders for support. “i’m sure, if you just rest, you’ll feel better pretty soon.”

“Y-yeah…okay…” With careful, waddling steps, Sans made his way into the parlor, guided by his taller older brother…and they both lightly sank down into the cushions, making the old couch creak in protest.

“look, see? it’s just in time for napstaton.”

Sans’s eyes lit up with twinkles when Papyrus pressed the TV remote and a metallic orb appeared on the screen in front of them, spinning turntables and bopping its noodly arms along to the beat. Napstaton was his absolute favorite television celebrity, after all—resting was alright, if he could spend it watching the circular robot work his magic.

Finally, Sans tucked his legs in, curling into the couch and slightly leaning against Papyrus’s arm. His overstuffed tummy was comfortably cradled in his lap, softly glowing and glurping as it settled itself once more.

Meanwhile, Papyrus slumped back, tucking his arms into his hoodie and assuming full loafing-around mode, barely watching or caring about the program. A moment later, he noticed Sans making those strange half-choking, gulping noises again…and realized what it must be.

“just let it out, bro. it’s fine.”

“N-n-no…” Sans stubbornly shook his head, hot blush resuming. “That’s…that’s gross.”

“nobody’s here to hear you. ‘cept me. and we both know i’m no _body_.”

Sans shot him a miffed expression, though he was still blushing, and he chuckled, scratching the back of his skull.

“…and i won’t tease you about it, if that’s what you’re worried about. promise. just let it. i guarantee you’ll feel loads better.”

With a small shift against his arm, Sans turned his head away…focusing back on the Napstaton show and trying to avoid thinking about it. His small hands gently massaged up over his achy, overblown belly. Soothingly caressing over the round, taut membrane. Softly calming it and placating it. And then…

“Ah— _urrrrp_!” It wasn’t too loud—a few decibels below his regular speaking volume—but it was still plainly heard, drowning out the beeping of the robot’s speech for a second. And Sans buried his face in his brother’s baggy sleeve with utter shame. Burping straight out loud like that…it made him feel like such a _slob_.

But Papyrus only smiled a little, opening one eye to glance sideways at him. With the opposite arm, he reached over…and gave a very gentle little pat to the stuffed, swollen little tummy. “there you go.”

Sans quietly whimpered and burped a tiny bit again, though Papyrus didn’t even bat an eye. But…he was right. A miniscule amount of the pressure inside him had been relieved…it didn’t feel quite as sharply taut anymore. One small level of pain had lifted away.

A few silent moments later, Sans came out from behind his brother’s sleeve again…calming, slipping into comfort. His hands continued idly rubbing as he watched the Napstaton Music Mix Hour, and a few more burps popped out here and there. It really did feel better.

He was still pretty ashamed of himself, but at least he was beginning to accept that it was okay…right now. He’d…enjoyed himself, after all. Indulged a little. All of those incredible tacos were just tucked inside his little energy storage tank. Nice and cozy and warm, bright with an abundance of magical potential.

Papyrus was already snoring beside him, so no one would know…

Sans gave a fond little smile to his ripe, brimming little belly, and held it in an embrace. By now, most of the pain had faded, leaving him feeling weighty and tired. The magical mass thrummed in satisfaction against him. And he would never admit it, but it felt oh so _good_.

The lulling beeps and mechanical whirrs of Napstaton droned on, and he was finding himself suddenly very sleepy. One tiny “ _hic!_ ”, and Sans limply settled in, allowing the pull of sleep to overtake him.

And peace settled over the cabin home…just a TV buzzing steadily before two very comfy slumbering skeletons.  


	2. Don't Ever Eat at Muffet's

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot begins! Once more, it was greatly inspired by Sans' Sin Quest, the author of which I cannot thank enough. You may not understand what I'm getting at with this yet, but it'll become much more obvious later on. 
> 
> Unlike the brothers, Swap!Muffet has much more of her original personality. She's almost exactly the same, except in a different role, and perhaps a bit kinder. 
> 
> If you notice anything weird with the capitalization, that's entirely on purpose.
> 
> I know that the musical song probably didn't even exist before Frisk/Chara came...and that Napstaton would probably have an entirely different one...but I'm lazy, and not all that great at coming up with song lyrics of my own, haha. 
> 
> Chapter 3 will probably take a long time, just warning you now. My real life is about to become very busy. But in the meanwhile, enjoy this one!
> 
> .......good lord, what have I done?

Chapter 2: Don’t Ever Eat at Muffet’s

Papyrus wouldn’t say he knew everything. He simply held more knowledge than the rest of the common world. It made him more aware of the universe, the way everything fit together, the larger scheme of the extended dimensions. Every second ticking by was a multitude of pieces slotting and sliding together. Wispy streams weaving, rippling at the surface of a mirage made up of trillions of elements. Perhaps he was the only one in this wavering world aware of its impermanence.

This universe was only one of many, infinite, exact copies of itself—other lives of their doubles being played out perhaps simultaneously, perhaps yet to come. Universes in which _this_ happened instead of _that_ , if this person was _here_ at this time instead of _there_. All at the whim of some unseen, godlike entity. Papyrus couldn’t know exactly what these alternative universes contained…but he had the constant, vague, compelling sense that they weren’t the same. That he’d already lived through one or several. That this wasn’t the way it had been last time. Maybe he hadn’t been sitting in Muffet’s café at this time on this day, nursing a cup of honey tea and idly puffing on a cig. Maybe the same lowly chattering crowd hadn’t been here. Each time a change was made, it left behind a ripple—the splitting of the realities. And he could feel them creeping and snapping around him at every turn.

Fortunately, Papyrus had been able to salvage some… _things_ from between dimensions. His own notes……or more precisely, small dots of ink making up pieces of things that had once been notes. And though they were difficult to decipher at times, one thing he knew for sure… A certain human would appear. One that kept on reappearing, and one that would shape everything else after them. Sometimes, they were a friend, the Underground’s savior…and sometimes, they were its greatest enemy, a merciless force of destruction. And on separate past occasions, they had been each.

From these scraps, Papyrus had been able to make out something especially striking. In one of these former universes, these time-streams of discarded realities, all monsters had finally reached the Surface once again. A piece of him from another dimension had once breathed the fresh Surface air. Only to end up right back here again, a plaything in the hands of a fickle god.

No one else cared, because they were blissfully unaware…but some days, anger seeped into his soul over what had been done to them. Erasing their lives, erasing everything they’d built towards with the press of a button, for no reason besides that it was possible. And even worse—he knew it could happen again at any moment. Though Papyrus naturally wasn’t a very motivated person, the knowledge that all of your efforts could disappear and return to nothing without as much as a moment’s notice…it certainly didn’t encourage him to do anything with his tenuous life.

It was all thanks to the gift—or rather, the curse—of the abilities he’d received… Senses and awareness far surpassing those of any monster. At least he’d been able to use these to his advantage…fingering out pockets of time and being able to slip himself through them. Reaching to another part of reality in less than a millisecond. But all that was old hat—he’d been doing this stuff for years. He should’ve expected as much from being so close to Dr. Rivers.

By now, everything he could see and sense…the twisting realities, pieces of a past-future-present, and all other manner of metaphysical technicalities…it was all so commonplace. No, Papyrus wouldn’t say he knew everything……but he knew enough. He had an explanation for everything he’d encountered. And _that_ was why…

“Something weighing on your mind, pet?”

Flicking his tired eyes up, he noticed the purple-skinned, multi-eyed spider girl looking to him on the opposite side of the counter. One of her arms wiped down the surface, while another carried a tray of donuts, and two more stirred a cup of tea. Muffet called everyone “pet”, especially if she’d known them for a while…and she’d certainly known Papyrus for a very long while.

With a grind of his teeth, he reached to remove his cigarette, tapping it briefly to a nearby ashtray with cute little spider legs. “…yeah. my skull.”

Her head tilted, two black eyes winking, as if to say “oh, please, honey”.

“sigh… just the usual, i suppose. i’m hardly unpredictable.”

“Well…remember that I’m always available to talk to my favorite customer.” She offered a fanged little smile before turning to attend to some more orders at the drink station behind her.

Sure. Like he could ever unload all of his worries on some unsuspecting monster who would never know any better otherwise. Lazy he might be, but Papyrus was dedicated to carrying as much of the burden as he could by himself. In fact, there was only one other monster alive with any vague inkling of his abilities…but he’d rather not involve her. She had plenty of her own burdens to bear. Nevertheless…

Lately, Papyrus had become of aware of something _else_. Something that exceeded the regular pockets and ripples and blips in time and matter. It wasn’t much more than a vague sense of _something_ being there…but so far, it was completely inexplicable, and the very fact that he couldn’t explain it filled him with anxiety.

He remembered when he’d first felt it…after a day of blinking in and out through time-holes and leaping from different jobs, as usual. Traveling the long road between Snowdin and Waterfall, his senses had been assaulted with something…heavy and uncertain. At first, it had seemed to be some sort of powerful magic…but no, it was beyond magic…a force he’d not yet been able to fully grasp. It extended before him like a massive wall. Strangely enough, he could feel it out, though its scope was fully beyond his comprehension.

Summoning every ounce of magic he’d been able spare, his right eye-socket flaring with hot orange light, he’d flung it straight at the unknowable barrier. Somehow, he felt he could break it…thrust enough energy through it to allow a tiny hole to form, just enough to take a peek at what it kept contained. And at first it had seemed to be working.... The sheer force of his incredible energy pressing into it, drilling in, beginning to slightly warp…

But it hadn’t been enough. A second later, the magic had bounced back, as if released from a rubber band, and Papyrus had narrowly avoided being turned to dust by his own attacks.

Since then, he’d identified its unique feel, its specific properties amidst the hybrid soup of nebulous energies. And he realized it was everywhere. At any given moment, he could search out for it again and feel it nearby. It was always there, and it always had been there. But what _was_ it? What was its purpose? What was it _hiding_? The questions quite literally kept him up at night. Research yielded no relevant results, and neither did his various methods of scanning and detection. A constant enigma was hanging over him, and the very knowledge of its presence set him on edge. The only cure was to try to forget…at least temporarily. At least a good cup of tea and a couple of donuts did the trick.

Muffet’s was Papyrus’s favorite place in the world…the buzzing of customers, the sweet, warm scents, the laughter and yelling and tinkling of dishes…it helped to keep him grounded, to remind him that this reality was _his_ , and he was here right now, in a comfortable and friendly environment that welcomed him back time and time again. The best distraction of all, even better than books and comics and anime…

At last, Papyrus snuffed out the remainder of his cigarette and tugged a whoopee cushion out from inside his hoodie, inflating it with magic and slipping it onto the stool beside him. Grinning, he turned his attention back to his cup of tea. Had to keep things interesting around here somehow, right? But then again…things were about to get interesting all on their own.

“…’PYRUS!”

Papyrus nearly leapt from his stool at the sound of the very, very familiar voice. The volume startled Muffet as well, and she nearly dropped a teacup, though a second hand deftly caught it before it could hit the floor. She whirled around, small black pigtails bouncing.

Storming past tables of confused and alarmed customers, Sans strode up to the side of the counter with an indignant gait and an irritated expression. His small, round body stopped right in front of Papyrus, planting his fists at his hips and puffing out his chest (though it did absolutely nothing to make him look intimidating). “BROTHER! IT IS ALREADY PAST DINNERTIME, YOU KNOW! ARE YOU SO HOPELESSLY IRRESPONSIBLE THAT YOU CANNOT EVEN KEEP TRACK OF TIME?!”

Meanwhile, Papyrus was in a sort of flabbergasted daze. Sans _never_ came to Muffet’s, even when he’d accidentally dozed off at the counter and had to be forcefully awoken at closing time. What was so different this time…why did he feel so compelled to come get him at a place he usually despised?

Papyrus incredulously blinked. “uh…sorry, sans. guess it just slipped my mind. but you should know by now it’s not a guaran- _tea_.”

Sans spluttered and shook angry fists at him as he smugly took a sip. Meanwhile, his hearing picked up on the scattered voices of some of the other monsters at the tables behind them…

“Whoa, hey, is that Papyrus’s brother?”

“Must be! I’ve seen him sometimes in the morning going to the general store.”

“Yeah, I recognize the sound of his voice.”

“Ohmygosh, he’s cute!”

“I didn’t know Papyrus had such a cute brother.”

“He sure is loud, but he’s really adorable!”

Of course. The rare sight of Sans in the café was going to be the talk amongst the patrons for quite a while.

Finally, Sans huffed, crossing his gloved arms across his chest, resting them on the soft little shelf of his belly. “I MADE UP THE TACOS AND EVERYTHING, BUT…IT JUST WASN’T RIGHT TO HAVE DINNER WITHOUT YOU THERE.”

While that sentiment was kind of sweet, it definitely contradicted past experiences. Though he certainly hadn’t been happy about it, Sans had eaten alone a few times when Papyrus had been too busy with work, or had gotten himself stuck somewhere for the night. Why was it such a big deal now?

Then… Papyrus thought back to the recent “taco incident”. Maybe…he didn’t want to be alone, in case something like that happened again. It was honestly a little funny, and he found himself choking back chuckles. Poor thing…too afraid to let his appetite run away with him again.

“so…you didn’t have dinner?”

“WELL, I HAD A LITTLE BIT, BUT IT WAS JUST TOO LONELY.”

How much was “a little bit”, he wondered. Three? Six?

“I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU WOULD FORGET! I DON’T ASK YOU TO DO MUCH! AND YOU JUST GO AND SHIRK THE MOST IMPORTANT…”

“Well, hello there.” A smooth voice interrupted his lecture, and the two skeletons turned. Muffet was leaning over the counter to smile down at Sans, four arms crossed over it and two supporting her head. “What a rare treat this is, Sans.”

This wasn’t the first time she’d ever seen him, of course. They’d already met on the few minor occasions he’d accompanied his brother…and Papyrus was always telling her everything about him, anyway.

“AH, YES, MISS! GREETINGS! TODAY YOU SHALL BE BLESSED WITH MY GLORIOUS VISAGE!” He bowed his head slightly, with polite acceptance.

“huh.” With a clink, Papyrus set his teacup down again, crossing his legs, and giving his brother a glance. “sometimes i wonder why you hate this place so much. you love sweet stuff.”

“Yes.” Muffet agreed. “I dearly would like to see that face of yours more often.”

“IT’S BECAUSE YOU ALLOW SLUDGE-BAGS LIKE _HIM_ TO SPREAD THEIR SUFFOCATING TOXIC GASSES THROUGHOUT YOUR ENTIRE ESTABLISHMENT!” Sans jabbed a furious finger at Papyrus, almost straight into his nasal cavity. “IF NOT FOR THAT, IT MIGHT ACTUALLY BE A DECENT EATERY.”

“Ahu.” Muffet muffled an amused little giggle. “Ah, but your brother is my best customer. He provides me with nearly 60% of my daily profit. If I didn’t permit his addictive habits, he wouldn’t stay here nearly as long or give me nearly as much of his money, now, would he?”

“HRRRMPH…” Sans only pouted in reply, unable to come up with a sound retort. “BUT…!”

“Since you’re here today, though, Sans…” Muffet swiftly whirled around, swiping away a few things on her busy order counter, and taking one plate up in her highest-right hand. A moment later, she was plopping it down at the dining counter, right next to Papyrus—a thick slice of strawberry shortcake, teeming with puffy frosting and topped off with four miniature strawberries. “…Would you care to sample our newest menu item?” She winked two eyes. “It’s on the house, just for you, dear.”

“AH…” Sans’s huge, blue eye-lights twinkled, then blinked, then glanced nervously back and forth. Clearly, he was torn between wanting to go home and continue his tacos, and wanting to stay and accept this generous offer. His arms sort of twitched, mouth curving his teeth up in a small, shy grin…and he looked up to Papyrus “UM…WOULD YOU MIND…?”

“yer askin’ me?” Papyrus laughed, stuffing his hands back in his pockets. “you know i’ll take any chance i can get to not move.”

“AH!” Everyone could practically see Sans’s soul thumping with excitement. “IT’S DECIDED, THEN! I SHALL STAY!” With one forceful leap, he swung himself up onto the stool nearest his brother. And then—

_Pfffbrrrt!_

“’PYRUS!!!” Sans shrieked, his face turning blue again, and the taller brother cackled out loud, squeezing his sockets up into one of their rare, amused expressions.

“Oh, man! Oh, I just knew that was going to happen! Saw that coming for miles!”

Sans yanked the deflated whoopee cushion out from underneath him and repeatedly smacked the chuckling Papyrus with its rubbery opening, causing him to double over with even stronger laughter. “WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT ASSAULTING UNSUSPECTING CITIZENS WITH YOUR OFFENDING BODILY NOISES?!”

“pfffheee, that it… that it’s sure a _poot_ , and i should do it more often? ahahahaha!”

“ _NO_ , YOU IMMATURE, REAR-END-OBSESSED CLOWN!”

Papyrus just sank into his hands, shaking his head and muffling his laughter, the rest of his body slightly shuddering. Oh, wow, had he needed that.

“I SWEAR…” At last, Sans turned away with a quiet harrumph, taking up a fork and eyeing the strawberry shortcake, though his round cheekbones still glowed in dollops of magic blue.

Muffet watched their antics with a gentle smile, peacefully leaning against the counter like she’d seen this very scene play out countless times.

“ah, you were great, sans.” Papyrus finally turned, his laughter dying down into quiet, breathy chuckles. “the perfect victim.”

“YOU’RE DOING THE DISHES TONIGHT.”

Finally, Sans scooped out a bite of the cake and angrily stuffed in into his mouth. Immediately, his irritation melted away and his eyes literally lit up, his entire being glowing with pure, intense pleasure. “MMM _MMMMMMM_!!” Quickly swallowing, he refilled the fork with another, much bigger bite.

“to no one’s surprise, he’s in love with it,” Papyrus commented, while Sans eagerly munched through the next bite, and then the next, neon blue eye-lights twinkling in joy. Plucking out a little strawberry, he spent a moment sucking out its pocket of juice before gulping it down.

“Ahuhu. I’m glad.”

“ _Mmm-ahmff_!” Sans hastily stuffed down another thick bite of cake, a puff of frosting still stuck to his chin. And he leaped up in his stool, giving Muffet two incredibly over-emphatic thumbs-up. “IT’S INCREDIBLE! PUT IT ON THE MENU! THE MAGNIFICENT SANS APPROVES, WITH HIS HIGHEST RECOMMENDATION!”

The spider-lady continued giggling. “Aheeheeheehee! Will do! Thank you very much!” She turned away as Sans excitedly resumed eating, gathering up some more orders and putting new ones in to brew and bake.

“hey,” Papyrus called, before she could leave her station. “could ya fry me up a honey-glazed?”

Beside him, Sans was lost in his sweet, moist, cakey indulgence and didn’t hear a thing.

With a brief glance, he changed his mind. “eh, actually, skip the donut. just the glaze. and by that, i mean just gimme the honey.”

Muffet rolled her two biggest eyes. “I’ve never known a customer before you to just eat through my ingredients without even tasting my products.”

“well, it’s sure happening now—you better _bee_ -lieve it.” Papyrus winked in Sans’s direction, but the small, round skeleton had his cheek-bones stuffed with strawberry and cake, thoroughly enamored and oblivious to anything but this blissful taste. He could get away with as many horrible puns as he wanted without any reaction. But the reaction was the whole point, anyway.

Papyrus sighed and chuckled as Muffet handed him his usual amber-colored squeeze-bottle of honey. It was so nice to see his brother enjoying it so much, though…especially as this was a rare visit for him, and he never got to taste Muffet’s offerings.

All too soon, Sans was scraping the bottom of an empty plate, trying to push up the last, thin skid-marks of frosting and wistfully licking his fork with his re-materialized magic-substance tongue. His round eye-lights scanned the edges of the plate, probably wishing it would refill itself, but too shy to ask for any more, especially since Papyrus would have to pay for it.

The edges of his form were slightly quivering, and in retrospect, it probably hadn’t been a smart idea to let him ingest so much sugar. It was bound to affect his energy levels in a rather…intense way. Papyrus could already see the sleepless night of hopelessly trying to calm him and get him into bed flashing ahead in his future.

Muffet lifted the final plate of orders in her sixth arm and glided out from behind the counter, the tails of her suit vest flowing behind her. As soon as she skated out onto the floor, the wheels softly rumbling on the wood paneling, Sans gasped, jumping around to stare at them with startled, fascinated eyes.

“AH--! SHE’S FLYING! ON THOSE WHEELY SHOES! THAT’S AWESOME!”

Papyrus took a gulp of honey and raised his brow. He’d forgotten that Sans had never seen Muffet on her roller skates…and that he’d probably never even seen roller skates at all.

“Oh. Heehee! You like them?” Muffet glided in a tight circle, expertly holding each of her five trays steady. “They’re called roller skates. They help me move faster than just walking.”

“ _SO COOL_!!” Sans was practically ready to explode, his hands clenching and trembling under his chin as he stared at the roller skates with stars in his eyes. “I WANT TO TRY! I WANT TO DO THAT, TOO! ‘PYRUS, WE GOTTA GET ROLLER SKATES!!”

“heh”. Fat chance of that. He didn’t know of anywhere in the Underground that actually made roller skates—you’d have to wait for a pair to tumble down the trash flow in Waterfall. Even then, you’d have to be extremely lucky for them to be anywhere close to your size.

“Oh?” With her one remaining open hand, Muffet pressed fingers to her fanged mouth. “You want to try them out?”

“ _YEAH_! I MEAN, YES, VERY MUCH SO, MISS!” Sans was squirming at the very edge of his stool, like a small child being told he’d get a chance to own the hottest new toy.

“Welllllllll…”

Papyrus noticed that look at the edges of her eyes. She was up to something…that small spark of inspiration was all he needed to see.

“How’s about you come and work for me, pet? You can roller skate as much as you wish.”

“UH…” Losing a bit of their shine, Sans’s eyes shifted down, and he tapped a finger to his teeth in consideration. “UM… THE OFFER IS VERY, VERY MUCH APPRECIATED, AND WHILE I’M CERTAIN IT WOULD BE A GLORIOUS POSITION, I ALREADY HAVE AN EXTREMELY IMPORTANT DUTY CAPTURING HUMANS FOR THE GOOD OF ALL MONSTERKIND. SO I’M SORRY, BUT I’LL HAVE TO DECLINE.”

“But it would only be for tonight,” Muffet continued, the edges of her mouth curling up even further. “You can go right back to your regular human-hunting job tomorrow, as I’m certain it _is_ very important. But I could use a bit of extra help just for now. What do you say?”

“AH…” Sans quickly glanced back at Papyrus, as if asking permission, but he just gave a nonchalant shrug and took another sip of honey.

Whatever she had up her sleeves, if it let Sans roll around on some skates and be happy, he’d—pun intended— _roll_ with it. Especially since he wasn’t able to provide Sans with roller skates of his own, and he was certain he’d never hear the end of it otherwise.

“…….IN THAT CASE, I DEFINITELY SHALL!” Sans sprang from his seat, landing deftly on his boots and dramatically pressing a hand to his chest. “ALLOW THE GRACIOUS AND WONDROUS SANS TO ASSIST YOU ON THIS FINE BUSINESS ENDEAVOR!”

“Ahuhuhuhuhu, wonderful!” Apparently dropping the orders for now, Muffet clanked the trays back onto the counter and swiftly rolled to the door in the back of the shop, eagerly beckoning for Sans to follow. He all but ran after, completely over-hyped. “Let’s get you fitted in your uniform, then. In here.”

With a bead of concern, Papyrus watched the two of them slip into the backroom. He’d known Muffet long enough to trust her not to hurt his brother, but still… A part of him really doubted she had any sort of uniform for him. What in the world was she plotting? Oh, well. At least Sans seemed happy. And with him occupied, he could continue to vegetate here, sucking on his honey and thinking. Trying to come up with a solution to the ever-present mystery wall problem…or at least something new to try on it.

Even as he tried to imagine new, potential scenarios for testing it or measuring it, he could hear customers’ voices buzzing in the background, occasionally catching a snippet about Sans. How cute he was, or how loud he was, or how they wished they’d see him around more often, or how they’d like to talk to him. He’d always wished to be popular, but what he didn’t know was that he earned popularity without even trying.

Papyrus lowered his head towards the counter, deciding to maybe take a little nap, but that was when…

“’PYRUS, LOOK!!!”

“hmmm? aa--- _Aggrhghgpllggh_!!” Papyrus choked on his next mouthful of syrupy honey, coughing and spluttering it out. The bottle nearly dropped right out of his hand. “S-Sans, what the…?!”

“IT FITS ME REALLY WELL! LOOKIE!”

Papyrus could not believe what he was seeing right now, and he immediately began to mentally curse out Muffet, glaring daggers at the proud spider hostess leaning gleefully against the closed door.

There stood an excited little Sans in a pair of his own roller skates…and a fluffy maid outfit in shades of white and pastel lavender. It came complete with a puffy skirt, a lace-lined apron, lacy accents down the buttoned blouse, cute knee-high stockings, and a huge bow in the back. A small purple flower barrette with floaty white feathers had even been pasted onto the side of his skull.

Yet somehow, Sans didn’t even care about the cutesy nature of his attire…he was too busy patting at the front of his blouse and twisting his ribboned waist, overjoyed that it fit his body and was actually roomy and comfortable. In a sick way, Papyrus was a bit impressed that Muffet actually had something to fit him so well…Sans was an unusual short, pudgy shape, after all.

The small skeleton seemed thoroughly delighted, turning and stretching at his huge back-bow and slowly, carefully rolling forward in a little circle on his skates—a bright white to match his ridiculous costume.

“gggg…urrrrmph…almrfff….” Papyrus struggled with words, desperately trying to form something coherent and appropriate for this unexpected situation. “sans…….”

“AND TAKE A LOOK AT THESE MAJESTIC ROLLER SKATES!” Sans shoved one foot into the air, much farther than he should while wearing a dress, nearly losing his balance on his opposite foot. “TRULY AN INVENTION DIVINED BY THE HEAVENS THEMSELVES! LOOK, LOOK!!!”

With crazed, bubbly giggles, Sans glided forward, a bit awkwardly at first, but he picked up on it surprisingly quickly. A moment later, he was zooming down the length of the floor behind the counter, barely stopping himself before crashing into the eastern wall, laughing and shouting with joy. By now, he’d attracted the attention of some of the café patrons, twitching bunny ears and curious eyeballs turning his way.

And throughout it all, Muffet looked so terribly pleased with herself, gently rolling up to Sans’s side again and taking his arm. “Alright, then, pet. Now that you’ll all suited up, it’s time for you to help me serve our customers! Might you be a dear and go take their order over at table two, by the window?”

She handed him a small pad of paper and a pencil, and his eyes twinkled again, grinning ecstatically. “ABSODOOTLY-LOOTLY!” He plucked them out of her hands. “THERE IS NOTHING THE MAGNIFICENT SANS CANNOT HANDLE FOR YOU!”

With a brief clicking of her tongue, Muffet wagged a pair of fingers at him. “Uh-uh. Remember—while you’re working here, your name is Miss Sansy. Remember what I told you?”

“OH! THAT IS CORRECT! I APOLOGIZE! MISS SANSY IS ON THE WAY! WHEEHEEHEEHEE!!!” Before she could give any more instruction, he was zipping off towards the table in the front of the store, his best, genuine, sparkling smile in place.

Muffet came back to the side of the counter to retrieve her platters, and Papyrus’s head completely sank into his hands, shaking over and over against the bones of his palm.

“GREETINGS, SPLENDID GUESTS! IS THERE ANYTHING I, THE CAPABLE MISS SANSY, CAN GET FOR YOU ON THIS FINE EVENING?”

“………..i can’t believe you.” Papyrus muttered over towards Muffet. “did you even teach him how to _act_ in a dress?”

She giggled and dismissively waved a small hand. “Oh, don’t worry. The outfit comes with a pair of bloomers.”

“That’s not the issue here!!” Papyrus practically shouted, shoving himself up against the counter and clenching twitching finger-bones at her. A moment later, he heavily exhaled, letting his skull clonk down on the table. “my god……”

Let Sans eat at Muffet’s for _one_ day, and he winds up roped into a maid café scheme. Papyrus would have put a stop to this immediately, if Sans hadn’t been so darn _happy_ about it. Far be it from him to put a halt to something that was bringing him so much joy. Still, he just knew he was going to hold a grudge against Muffet for weeks after this.

She just skated away with a smile and a wink, like everything was perfectly normal, and he wished he could just trip her. Oh well. He was just going to have to live with this.

The night wore on, and Papyrus kept a careful eye on Sans as he cheerily waited tables and served up plates of tea and sweets, zipping and swerving across the floor on his skates as if he’d been roller-skating for years. As it turned out, most of the other monsters responded really well to him. Frequent squeals and laughter and cries of “so cute!” or “how precious!” pealed throughout the café. And Sans was soaking in the attention like a sponge, beaming and practically radiating pride and utter mirth.

Meanwhile, Papyrus stayed turned around at the counter, leaning back and nursing his honey bottle as he observed. His senses were kept pricked, standing at attention and judging each customer’s movements. Delightedly smiling bunny ladies, chuckling bears, squeaking little slimes, and all manner of happy clawed, winged, and tentacled creatures…

Closely, he monitored the more tough and suspicious-looking of the bunch, especially when Sans drew near them. They _dared_ not make any sort of moves on his little brother, or even insinuate anything in conversation. They’d end up with an orange, glowing bone lodged straight in their side. Fortunately, though, none of that happened…oh, the damages Muffet would have to pay, then.

At last, Sans rolled to a stop in front of Papyrus, catching himself on a stool and briefly leaning himself against it. And that was when Papyrus noticed there was a donut stuffed in his mouth.

“where’d that come from?” he asked, pointing at it, and Sans tore it out from his mouth, taking a big bite, and holding it up in his lacy-gloved hands.

“OH! THE CUSTOMERS ARE SO VERY GENEROUS! THEY KEEP GIVING ME SMALL TREATS FROM THEIR TABLE!” He gulped down another bite, merrily refilling his mouth with the sugary-coated, cakey pastry—this one was chocolate with sprinkles. “IT WOULD BE VERY UNKIND TO REFUSE THEIR HEARTFELT GIFTS!”

“uh….” Papyrus leaned his elbow on the counter and glanced back at Muffet. “i think, technically, you’re not supposed to take it, even if they insist… isn’t that right?”

The spider girl dismissively shrugged her shoulders, as two of her other arms counted through a stack of 100G bills.

That was it, then…”Miss Sansy” was bringing in a lot of extra revenue—so much so, she didn’t even care if he got away with receiving free snacks from people. That had been her diabolical plan all along.

“er…you’re sure everything’s going alright, bro?” Papyrus questioned, even as Sans sucked in the remaining chunk of donut with a flushing grin. “you’re not tired or anything?”

“TIRED? I CANNOT RECALL THE MEANING OF THAT WORD!” Sans leaped up straight, the edges of his layered skirt bouncing. “THIS IS NOTHING! I’M HAVING A BLAST!”

As if to completely emphasize the point, he shoved off from his place beside the stool, picking up speed on his spinning roller skates…and leaped into the air, turning a complete spin, before expertly landing in place before the café’s entrance. The customers gasped and cheered and clapped, and he struck a pose, one arm stuck up in the air and one skate resting out on its heel.

“Whooa, awesome!”

“Yaaaaay, Miss Sansy!”

“THANK YOU, THANK YOU, YOU’RE ALL SO KIND!”

The fact that he was still so hyper had to be a side-effect from consuming even more sugar… Papyrus worriedly wondered just how many more little “gifts” he’d accepted by now…and how much longer this was going to go on. Surely, Muffet wasn’t planning on keeping him until closing. Then again, at least he was occupied…though, Papyrus was far too protective to just leave him be and take a nap.

The moment he decided to look away would be the moment some sleazy monster decided to grab Sans’s femur or try to shove their appendage into his clothing. Not everyone here was so trustworthy. Sure, Muffet would probably catch them and throw them out, but Papyrus would be sure to catch them _before_ it ever happened.

As he worked, delivering orders and fetching napkins and such, hopping between tables, Sans had fun with his roller skates, swaying this way and that, gliding on one foot, then the other. He even began to sort of dance while skating, shimmying his body and hopping side-to-side, skidding and turning little circles and figure-8s. It was amazing, how quickly he’d gotten so good at something he’d never even heard of a mere two hours earlier. Too bad there was no such thing as a monster roller rink…because if it _did_ exist, Sans would totally dominate it.

Papyrus grinned to himself as he imagined him training for skating competitions, making himself some bold, flashy little costumes to wear during routines…”The Warrior on Wheels”! Maybe…if they ever reached the Surface world……

Time passed, peacefully, and Papyrus got used to scanning the crowds, so much that he could do it without thinking. So much, that he didn’t even notice Sans again until he was standing right beside him. With a jolt, he snapped back to attention…

There was his little brother, gazing over the counter at Muffet, a small cardboard box tucked under his left arm…and was he seeing things, or… No, his belly was definitely rounder. The ribbon of his apron and the buttons of his blouse were beginning to strain, grown tight at his swelling little middle. How many “gifts” had they given him, anyway? He should’ve been paying more attention to Sans himself.

At last, Muffet caught his gaze, and he energetically saluted her. “BOSS MUFFET! PERMISSION TO TAKE MY STANDARD REGULATED BREAK AT THIS TIME, PLEASE?”

She giggled. “Of course, Miss Sansy. You’ve been an excellent waitress thus far. Go ahead and have a little rest.”

“EEEEEEEEEEE!” Sans hopped up onto the stool beside Papyrus again, plopping the cardboard box onto the counter and eagerly cracking it open. It was then that he noticed it was full of donuts—not a whole dozen, but at least six. Licking the ends of his teeth in anticipation, Sans extracted a round, thick donut filled with raspberry jelly, and bit right into it, emitting muffled chuckles at its contents squirting around his mouth.

“um, sans…” Papyrus spoke up when the last bite of the raspberry donut had been consumed, and Sans was licking his silky white gloves and shuffling through the box for another one. “…not to discourage you or anything, but how many donuts have you had tonight?”

“HMM…” Sans scrunched his face in as he thought, chewing ponderously on another big bite of donut—vanilla and strawberry frosted this time. “I’M…NOT…CERTAIN, REALLY. TWELVE? OR MAYBE FOURTEEN? I THINK…MAYBE I MISSED ONE. NO, I DON’T THINK SO. BUT, I GUESS FIFTEEN, WITH THE ONE I JUST ATE…”

Knowing him, he was probably underestimating. The tally was probably somewhere around nineteen. On top of that slice of strawberry shortcake. And whatever amount of tacos he’d previously eaten before coming to search for him. No wonder his belly looked a little bulged.

“OH, BUT I ALSO HAD A COUPLE OF CROISSANTS. DO THEY COUNT?”

Good gracious.

Sans was numb to his own fullness, as usual, though, and turned back to his donuts with a gleeful squeak, burying his face in his next offering of a sticky, glazed donut with cinnamon and chocolate-coated chunks scattered over its ring. Papyrus really didn’t want to draw attention to it, but…he had to try to warn him.

“uh…maybe you should take it easy on the pastries when you’re gonna be moving around so much like that…”

“HA! I WOULD EXPECT THAT, COMING FROM HE WHO DOES NOT CARE TO MOVE.” Sans took a short break from chewing to jab another accusing finger at his brother. “I, ON THE OTHER HAND, CAN EAT AND MOVE AT THE SAME TIME PERFECTLY WELL. NOTHING TO IT. I’M FINE.” Another hearty bite of sweet, energy-rich pastry.

Papyrus was naturally skeptical, but he let Sans have his way. He always let Sans have his way, which probably wasn’t a good thing. But, hey, for him, it was always a lot simpler to not stop something than to stop it.

And so, Sans steadily munched his way through the box of donuts (there turned out to be eight), and shimmied his apron down a little bit lower. The buttons on his blouse seemed to be straining even more, tiny gaps starting to appear between them, through which a glow of contented, abundant magic was visible. With a pang of concern, Papyrus wondered how he could even think about working any more, with his magical stomach so bloated and full like that. But Sans simply wiped the remaining crumbs from his face, adjusted the sticky barrette on the side of his skull, and hopped down from the stool, taking the empty box to deposit in the trash receptacle.

“All done?” Muffet turned to ask him, while she washed several dishes with her many arms. “Well, then, get back out there and rustle us up some more orders!”

“YOU GOT IT, BOSS MUFFET!” And he zoomed off once more, surprisingly stable, despite the shift in his weight.

“how much longer you gonna milk this thing?” Papyrus grumbled.

“As long as he wishes,” was Muffet’s simple answer. “If he’s having a good time, there’s no need to stop him.”

_Yeah, well there might be_. Papyrus didn’t say it, but it was what he felt. Call it a protective instinct.

Time wore on. Eventually, Papyrus drained two whole bottles of honey as his dinner, though he still hadn’t touched any actual food. And Sans was still having the time of his life, zooming and twirling and munching between tables. The late hour had started to bring in a different sort of crowd, and they were noisy and crowded, but still behaved enough that Papyrus didn’t have to jump down their throats. It was nice to see them enthusiastically cheering for Sans when he landed a little trick. He sure must have been getting one heck of a confidence boost out of this. And inevitably, he was passed even more yummy little treats.

“Yo, Muffet!” One vocal, good-natured wolf called out. “Your new employee here is _stellar_! I’d stay here all day just watchin’ ‘em.”

“Indeed.” The suited spider hostess halted near the edge of her counter, though she still held a pile of dirty dishes. “Everyone loves Miss Sansy. He’s the very idol of my café now!”

“IDOL?!” Sans came out of a curtsy-spin, eye-lights huge and sparkling again.

Papyrus worriedly noted that his round little belly had definitely bloated up even more, now obviously stretching the limits of the clothing and showing through. Absolutely stuffed with so many gifts. He should be huffing and puffing by now, but oddly enough, he seemed as energetic as ever. The buzz of all that sugar must have been counteracting the drowsiness that an overfilled tummy usually gave him. No one seemed to notice, or else they politely abstained from commenting.

Still, bulging little maid Sans was jittering with over-excitement. “YOU MEAN, LIKE, A TV STAR?! I’M THE _STAR_?!”

“You bet, you’re the star!” A huge mouse-like creature added. “You’re _our_ star!”

“ALRIGHTY THEN!” Sans flipped towards the sound of their voices, standing near Papyrus at the counter and facing them all. “YOUR IDOL, THE SPLENDIFEROUS MISS SANSY, WILL NOW SING YOU ALL A SPECIAL SONG!”

Though a part of him worried, Papyrus couldn’t help laughing as Sans seized a giant wooden spoon from behind Muffet’s counter and began to belt out the opening lines to Napstaton’s famous musical song.

“OH MY _LOOOOOOOOVE_ , PLEASE RUN A- _WAAAAAAAAY_ ….”

“ _Whooooo_!” The patrons cheered and clapped and laughed.

“Miss Sansy!”

“We love you!”

“MONSTER QUEEEEEEEN, FORBIDS YOUR STAAAAAAAAAY…” He really wasn’t that bad, though he was a tad bit off-key and much too loud. Sans put overly-dramatic motions into his singing, clutching his chest, throwing his arms to the sky, molding his face into various pained, heartbroken expressions as he powerfully sang on. It was a lot more emotion than Napstaton himself ever put into this song, actually.

“HUMANS MUUUUUUUST, LIVE FAR A-PAAAAAAAAART…”

“ _Yeeeeeeah_!”

“Miss Sansy, whoohoo!”

Suddenly, Sans threw himself onto the counter, sitting at its very edge, the layers of his dress puffing around his bony legs. The lacy flaps of his blouse practically creaked, desperately holding around his bulbous little tummy. He kicked his feet, energetically, leaning forward and belting out the next dramatic line. “EVEN IIIIIIIIF…IT _BREAKS MY HEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAART_!”

Papyrus crossed one leg and folded his arms, contentedly watching his brother having the time of his life. He’d probably remember this forever…being so adored by a crowd of other monsters. He didn’t even _need_ to capture a human—he was so popular as it was right now. Pieces of his dream were coming true at this very moment, in this small, warm café, in the middle of the night, and it was incredible.

The patrons began to sing along with Sans—those that knew the words by heart from Napstaton’s shows. He swayed back and forth, drinking in this moment, these feelings… If only it could go forever and ever and ever… Joyous cheering and warbling, shouts of love and support and encouragement. Sans was practically exploding with happiness. But all things came to an end.

He arrived at the very end of the song…but he wasn’t going to just end it on a soft note. Emphatically, Sans hopped up further on the counter, forcing his legs under him, and leaned dangerously outward, clutching his spoon for all it was worth. “SO SAD IT’S HAPPP-EN-IIIIIIIIIIING!!!”

_Plpppopop!_

It happened all too suddenly, all too instantaneously.

In a flash, the three lowest buttons of Sans’s blouse burst right off, letting his big, round, engorged blue tummy spring forth from its confines, tight and bulging and swirling as ever. He toppled forward, smashing into a stool, and clamping onto it for dear life, just barely slowing his fall enough to land with a small tremor down on his kneecaps. And the crowd burst into uproarious laughter.

“ _Ahahahaha_ , did you _see_ that?!”

“His freakin’ dress just burst open from his giant gut!”

“A fat maid skeleton—now I’ve seen it all!”

“It’s kinda cute, but still…”

“Oh my God! Wardrobe malfunction! Eheheheh!”

None of them even asked if he was okay.

“Sans!” In a heartbeat, Papyrus and Muffet were at his side, kneeling at his spot on the floor. Papyrus pressed a careful hand to his skull. “Sans, are you alright?! Does it hurt? Did you break anything? Twist anything?”

Poor Sans lied in a heap beside the stool, violently trembling, silent tears running down his face. His cheekbones held the widest, deepest blue blush he had ever produced. He pulsated and gulped and pressed back hiccups and sobs, clenching himself with all his might.

Sans…to have been so elated, so proud of himself, and then to have it all come crashing to rock bottom in an instant… The laughter and chatter buzzed in the back of Papyrus’s senses, and rage ignited within him. How he wished he could just throw them all across the room with his powers… His little brother never deserved anything like this.

On instinct, his arms moved in closer, as if to hug him, but Sans shakily pushed back against his shoulder.

“Ih…I…I’m sorry…” He seemed to be coming down from his sugar high now, crash-landing painfully back to the earth…and he suddenly looked very, very tired. “I’m…so sorry…”

“hsshhh,” Papyrus softly spoke to him. “you’ve nothing to be sorry about, sans. it was an accident.”

“Mm-mm…” He buried his face in his hands, just trying to block everything out—get rid of this horrible world, bearing down on him. Several shudders and little chokes and whispered moans squeezed out, and the round mass of magic sitting in his lap gave an unsettled little _glurp_.

“Sans…” Muffet joined in, fulling kneeling next to him. “Are you sure you’re alright? Are your legs okay?”

Slowly, he shuffled, untucking his legs, the roller skates sticking out. With a quick examination, Papyrus observed that the bones around his kneecaps were a little bit bruised, but thankfully, none of them were cracked at all. He would recover from this…at least physically.

“I-I can’t…” Sans’s tearful, gulping, choked voice was gradually fading…losing all of its confidence, all of its strength. Watery blue-lit pupils turned towards Muffet. “I don’t…w-want to work anymore. I c-can’t…”

“It’s okay.” She extended one arm, cupping his shoulder and gently smiling. “You don’t have to. You can go home now, Sans. You did such a wonderful job today.”

“A-Are you…you ready to…g-go home now, ‘Pyrus?”

“yes. yes, of course.” Papyrus’s heart ached at his selfless consideration. “let’s go home together now. it’s going to be okay…”

Sans just whimpered, returning his gaze to the floorboards in utter humiliation and continuing to let silent teardrops squeeze from his sockets.

All on her own, Muffet began to unlace the roller skates, and gently slipped them off his feet, leaving his thin lavender knee-high socks. “Why don’t you go get changed? I bet you can’t wait to get home and relax now.”

“….Ih….y-yeah…” Sans slowly struggled to his feet, awkwardly swaying for a moment as he adjusted. And his whole body seemed ready to collapse. “W…Wait for me…” As quickly as he could, he padded over to the back door and slipped inside.

Papyrus sighed as soon as he’d disappeared, trying to release his anger in a non-destructive way. His gaze lingered on the closed door, and less than a minute later, he was glaring over at Muffet, who had already returned to her cleaning.

“Take care of _them_ …” He jabbed a disgusted thumb at the crowd. “I’m going after him.”

She nodded in accordance, and that was all he needed before storming over to the backroom and shoving himself inside.

It was a storage area, mostly…shelves piled up with cardboard boxes and boards and other supplies leaning against the walls. A couple of folding chairs had been set out, and there was enough floor space in here for Muffet to have taught him how to use his skates. A small pile of lavender and blue was heaped in the very center.

Upon examination, Papyrus discovered that his brother had simply passed out, half-dressed. His pants were on, but completely open (though he doubted they’d close now anyway), his bony feet were still bare, and his shirt was only barely on around his neck. Poor Sans…when he came down from a sugar buzz, he crashed _hard_. And that experience just now certainly hadn’t helped.

With a sad sigh, Papyrus knelt, carefully lifting Sans’s body to gingerly finish dressing him. At least, this way, he could rest…he was at peace, mercifully taken away from the world that had turned against him. The expression of his closed eyelids was still and settled, though a few scattered teardrops still clung to his cheekbones.

Papyrus took note of the way his shirt wouldn’t even unroll that far…and how spread apart the flaps of his pants were. His clothes really were much too small for him now…and he’d probably been hiding that fact for days. He’d have to put together a newer version a few sizes up…gonna need some more fabric for that.

Softly tucking Sans’s scarf-cape back around him, he finished re-dressing him and very gently lifted him, cradling him into his arms with a whispered grunt. Papyrus held him bridal style, so as not to put too much pressure on his belly…and though he knew he couldn’t feel it, he apologetically rubbed at his back.

A tiny piece of guilt nipped at him—he could’ve stopped this, after all. Yet he’d done nothing, as usual. Absolutely nothing. But at least now…he was definitely going to do something.

“i can’t believe you.” Papyrus spoke up as soon as he’d exited the back storage room with his sleeping brother. Thankfully, the café was lot emptier and quieter…only a few small bunnies were left at a table, tucked into the corner. Perhaps Muffet had told everyone else off, or had even thrown them out by force. Muffet could be pretty threatening when she wanted to be.

The arachnid hostess in question was just wiping off a couple of platters when the skeletons re-emerged, and she turned towards them, cocking an eyebrow.

“to just use him like that for your own profits…I thought you had a bit more integrity than that.”

Muffet shrugged her middle arms and glided around the counter to Papyrus’s side. “It seemed like he enjoyed it immensely.” One small, purple hand snaked out and gave a soft pat to Sans’s bulbous belly. “In fact, _you_ should probably be paying _me_ for all the entertainment I provided for him…….as well as all the little treats he managed to wheedle out of me in the process.” A second hand joined in, briefly caressing the very apex of the outward blue bubble of packed-in magic, and she giggled.

“wow.” Papyrus shifted Sans’s position in his arms just a little. “he even managed to get more free stuff out of you, too? i’m impressed.”

“His eyes can be _quite_ persuasive…”

“…yeah, tell me about it.” With one final, heavy sigh, Papyrus took a step towards the door. There was nothing to be done about it now, except to just pick up the pieces. And it was true, he really _had_ been having an incredible time until…

“Papyrus.”

The tall skeleton glanced back at the suited spider on her roller skates, arms tucked behind her back…and she smiled, softly and almost apologetically. “Take care of him, okay? You’ve got a real peach, there.”

“i dunno…” Papyrus gave a low chuckle and patted the underside of Sans’s ripe, over-indulged little sack of energy, causing it to wobble just a tiny bit. “i’d say he’s more a blueberry.”

Muffet tittered and waved and happily told him they could come back at any time—she’d save a spot for them…but as Papyrus softly carried his unconscious brother out of the fated establishment, he had a feeling Sans wouldn’t want to come back to this place anytime in the next century or two.

Fully focused on his task, it didn’t take him long to arrive back home, though he carried Sans as carefully as possible, making sure he didn’t bump into anything and didn’t jostle him too much. With measured, long strides, he ascended the staircase and made his way to Sans’s room. Surrounded by the familiar scenery of home, reality was beginning to press in on him again…the ever-present awareness of their spatial time, their plane of existence. In another reality, this had never happened. Sans had never had this experience, as amazing and horrific as it was. But this was how it had all turned out now, he was here now, and he would have to live with it.

Without as much as a creak from the door, Papyrus slipped into Sans’s room…and gently laid the small skeleton on his back in the middle of his choo-choo-train-shaped bed. He’d always had this strange fascination with trains, and dreamed about being a train conductor one day…though, that was impossible in the Underground.

Completely unlike his own room, Sans’s room was clean as whistle…not even a speck of dirt to be found. The books on his low bookshelf were perfectly arranged in alphabetical order, each bone in the bucket of bones in the corner was carefully placed and fitted together. The blue-and-green bubble-patterned carpet under Papyrus’s sneakers was as bright as the very same day they’d purchased it. Other than that, though, it was oddly barren. Sans didn’t like a lot of needless clutter in his life, so even though he had plenty of toys and trinkets, they were stashed away in his closet, in neatly labeled tubs. The walls were bare and clean pastel blue.

With yet another sigh, Papyrus shifted closer…and seated himself at very edge of Sans’s bed, beside him. The lazily swirling bulb of his distended belly softly rose and fell with his peaceful, unconscious breath. Unlike his previous taco binge, this time, a few differing shades and hues of blue were blending through the mass of magic, lethargically drifting through and churning together. The image was kind of comforting, and Papyrus found himself cracking a tiny smile, reaching out to give it a tender rub. As usual, it was very warm, almost hot, and radiating a pallid blue light.

As he continued to rub, passing gentle phalanges over the soft, tightly-stretched membrane, he could practically feel the immense energy buzzing and tingling and bubbling underneath. So much dense magical energy… Piles upon piles of it, nourishing inside him now. It was…kind of a wonderful thing to see. And the more he looked into its swirling depths…the more a nagging little inkling began to form in his brain, growing and taking hold. Immediately, he rebuked the idea, but…maybe… Maybe this was the opportunity he needed. He’d never be able to just _ask_ otherwise…

Naturally, Papyrus’s thoughts had wandered back to the dilemma of that unknown, impassable force…the invisible sort of force-field that surrounded everything at every turn, in every second. Last time, he’d thrown every last ounce of magic he could muster at it, and had just barely failed to surpass its threshold. It would be impossible to fully break through using his energy alone…but… Another gentle stroke down the curve of Sans’s magic-stuffed tummy…

Magical energy sharing wasn’t something that was easy to do… You had to have superior control over your own magical abilities, and you had to know the soul, the essence, of the monster you were siphoning from exceptionally well. But Papyrus had all of that within his reach right now… It would be simple for him to just…take some of this energy from Sans and add it to his own output.

Before he’d even realized it, he’d made up his mind. The desperation to figure this thing out, to have this anxiety lifted from him, was all too great. It felt kind of dishonest to take energy from him while he was unconscious like this…like a breach of privacy. But he had to. He just _had_ to. This was important.

Drawing in a deep, steadying breath, Papyrus reached out with his senses, bumping against the nebulous force of the barrier. It was there, of course. It was always there. Now, he just had to…

One hand cupped over the crest of Sans’s belly, Papyrus began to concentrate, summoning his own magic to the surface. Orange crackling light sprang to life in the center of his right eye-socket, burning with power and searing into the opposing force. He felt the entity pressing down on him, resisting him, and he pressed right back, drilling, wrenching his magic into the metaphorical fabric of its existence. The tension smashing down on him was incredible, but he was somehow managing to stay in place, relentlessly chipping away and driving himself in further.

Soon enough, he began to feel his energy ebbing, flickering and faltering, the force inching back at the tiny opportunity. And that was when Papyrus clenched his sockets shut, grinding his teeth against the strain…and reached out with his soul, drawing the energy straight out of his slumbering brother. Fueled with the rush of new magic, new power, Papyrus snapped upright again, thrusting the barrier away.

More and more he drew, filtering in, letting it pulse and crackle and spark through his system…so much that he felt he might tear apart. The sound of his own bones rattling against each other caught his muffled hearing. And then… With one explosive shove, barely containing a scream, he threw every last ounce of that infinite energy straight at the mysterious shield.

At last, it bent…and he felt it _give way_ , letting his soul and his energy through, breaking around him. Magic continually, rapidly drained from him every second he spent here, ticking away, sustaining his entry…but he was _through_. And he opened his eyes.

Every sense, every feel in his body felt twisted…tearing at his being, as if trying to escape. Blank eye-sockets widened and lengthened, as colors and sights and emotions and memories blended before him, a messy soup of light and energy and potential matter. Red. Brown. Orange. Red. Papyrus felt his soul quivering, beset by an onslaught of forces he couldn’t describe. He couldn’t think. He wasn’t. He wasn’t Papyrus. He was just a collection of energies. Everything—too much of everything—was whirling around him and through him.

_Wrong_. The word, the idea burrowed into his fading skull. _Lies._ _Wrong. Misplaced._

His soul folded back in on itself…and he returned to his own being, barely able to recognize his own limbs. Tiny watery drops of energy leaked from his sockets, because it felt as if everything in his soul had been torn away from him. _Wrong._

“aaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!” At last, Papyrus caught a tiny scrap of his previous reality—the feeling of something warm in the palm of his hand. And he wrenched his hand away with all of his might, severing the powerful connection with a mental burst of effort.

Instantly, blended pieces snapped back into their former positions, bouncing back behind the barrier and blinking out of reach. The soft, soothing blue of Sans’s clean bedroom bled back into place beneath him, gradually solidifying into his old reality. But Papyrus couldn’t look away. His sockets stretched into full ovals, staring into the abyss, the _other_ he’d just taken in, and his spindly arms clenched around his ribcage, gasping, desperately hanging onto his soul, trying to prevent himself from dusting apart. Trembling, jittering, feeling as if he might just crumble to pieces and melt into the nothingness the universe told him he should be.

Ultimately, he hadn’t been able to discern much…but what he’d just witnessed… This barrier, this _thing_ wasn’t holding them back…it was there for _protection_. But being on the very edge of each plane, teetering between life and existence, he’d received the following, very distinctive message, ingraining itself in his very soul…

It was _wrong_. This world was _wrong_. Something about the universe was severely askew. Their world, their reality, their entire lives…something had wormed its way in and spread its sickness. Everything wasn’t sitting the way it should be, like a shoulder popped out of its socket and twisting in a way it shouldn’t be capable of. And all of this was crashing down on Papyrus’s soul, his emotions, his being, until he couldn’t handle it. He just couldn’t handle it. To discover that everything you knew, everything you’d ever known……was _wrong_ , a product of some sort of dimensional virus. No.

Huffing, his heart sinking down into his knees, Papyrus struggled to his feet and stumbled out of the room, nearly tripping down the stairs. His legs didn’t want to work, as if they belonged to some other being, and his shaking hand barely grasped the wall in time to save himself from a dangerous tumble. This was all he could think to do…all he desperately clung to, in order to cope…

Tripping out into the snow, Papyrus fell to the ground, cushioned by the soft slushy substance, and dragged himself to a limp sitting position. His clacking phalanges fumbled a cigarette out of his shorts’ pocket, and he lit it with a tiny burst of magic, from whatever miniscule amount he had left. And slowly, he sat back, taking drawn-out, calming drags of it, letting his tightly-wound body unclench itself just a little bit.

Slow breaths and puffs eventually settled him enough to let him think rationally and clearly again. His eye-sockets relaxed, returning to their normal shape. But he couldn’t stop thinking about it, a very unsettled feeling in his heart.

So, something was wrong. Something was wrong, and they needed to fix it. The unknown barrier was in place to keep them unaware, to protect them from the truth of this matter. But it wasn’t going to just fix itself. And he wasn’t even sure _what_ exactly was wrong, or where it had come from, and _why_.

One thing was absolutely certain—he needed to know more. He knew more now, yes, so much more…but there was still so much more he didn’t understand. Regrettably, he realized he would have to do that again at some point…break into the unknown plane and try to fish for more scraps of information. But if that’s what had to be done… If this was what must be done to patch the holes in their world… It was going to have to continue.

Papyrus finished his cigarette, snuffing the end out in the snow, and got up on weak legs. The constant, unsettled, worried feeling would never go away…but now he at least had his emotions under control. He had an idea, a driving purpose, and he was beginning to assimilate this revelation, fit it into his understanding of the universe’s workings. It was going to be okay. He had a plan. Everything was alright.

Dragging his sneakers, he made his way back up the stairs to Sans’s room, still a little concerned about him. His small brother was still sound asleep, thank goodness…but the swell of his tummy had considerably deflated. It was practically back to its normal size when empty. He was bound to be hungry again when he woke up…Papyrus felt a twang of guilt for taking so much energy from him. For a moment, he considered blipping over to the closed corner store and picking him up a cinnamon bun, leaving payment behind on the counter. But right now, he didn’t even think he had enough energy left to do that.

With a shaky, sorrowful sigh, Papyrus ran his hand over the smooth little surface of Sans’s round skull. Dear Sans…so much had fallen on his shoulders today. A new burden on the both of them. But one comforting factor, one thing Papyrus knew, no matter what happened to their world or what happened to himself…above all, he would protect Sans.

Sans mattered, more than anything. And he swore it to himself, in that very moment. Sans was his universe. And nothing would ever twist apart _that_.  


	3. Don't Ever Hurt Yourself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> VERY IMPORTANT WARNING! 
> 
> This chapter contains eating-disorder-like thoughts and behaviors. While there is a positive, anti-ED message in the end, I understand that encountering such things in any form can be triggering...and hearing a supportive message from a kink fic, of all things, might NOT be helpful. If you think any of this may be harmful to you, PLEASE skip this chapter, or at least skip to the very end. I really want everyone to be safe.
> 
> As such, I've made use of some of my personal past experiences in writing Sans's thoughts and actions in this chapter, so please be gentle and considerate with any critique, especially involving these in particular. It may seem like Sans flip-flops a bit too quickly...but I really see him as someone who goes from one extreme to the other in the blink of an eye, haha. 
> 
> I apologize if you find any weird mistakes...I may have rushed through my editing a bit, because I was so excited to post on this day. 
> 
> Beware of massive platonic fluff, which some people may interpret as romance. I don't, but that's me, so just be aware. Don't worry--it won't persist for the entire rest of the fic. In fact, the next chapter is going to be very different from this one.
> 
> Here, have some feels!

Chapter 3: Don’t Ever Hurt Yourself

 

“HENCEFORTH, LET IT BE KNOWN—STARTING AT THIS VERY MOMENT, SANS THE MAGNIFICENT IS OFFICIALLY ON A DIET!”

The very next morning, it began… The exact announcement he’d been dreading. Just from the way he spoke about it, the sort of words he used, he knew Sans was disgusted by his own plumpness. That he viewed it as weakness and shame. Sadly, he’d been expecting something like this, but…it was still a little bit hard to take, especially after last night.

Papyrus glared at the burnt crust of his nibbled toast, and tiny stabs of guilt poked at his heart. He’d been the one to let it get out of hand, he’d been the one to steal his energy, making him feel hungrier than he should…he hadn’t been supportive enough, when he needed it the most. “…you’re _sure_ about this, bro?” His skull skeptically cocked sideways at him. “a diet’s a lot of work, you know. and you might not be able to eat tacos again. like, ever.”

For a moment, the steadfast light in Sans’s eager blue eyes faltered, his smile dipping. But quickly, he forced it back in place, clenching his gloved fist even tighter and stamping on the chair he’d stepped up onto to make this proclamation. “OF COURSE! I AM MIGHTIER THAN ANY SUCH FRIVOLOUS TEMPTATIONS! FOR THE SAKE OF THE ROYAL GUARD, I WILL FOREGO ANYTHING I MUST! THE UNDERGROUND IS COUNTING ON ME!”

The upward pull of his arm tugged the hem of his grey shirt upwards, exposing the bottom bulgy curve of his transparent tummy, nestled between the open flaps of his pants. Papyrus took one glance at it and then forced himself to turn away—the last thing his poor brother needed was more self-consciousness. But it did remind him that he needed to work on his larger, replacement battle body. He couldn’t envision him allowing him in his vicinity with a measuring tape now, so…he’d just have to take the former measurements and add a few inches around the waist area. At least six, just to be safe…

“er, well…they’re also counting on you to not _starve_.” Papyrus’s worried little eye-sockets shifted towards the table. A single piece of toast sat in the middle of Sans’s plate, accompanied by a tall glass of juice. This sort of breakfast was what _he_ usually ate, not Sans. Sans almost always had a stack of messy pancakes. Or a handful of muffins and a cinnabun. Another wave of guilt hit him, seeing him cutting down so drastically all of a sudden. Lightheartedly, he clonked his elbow onto the edge of the table, resting a cheekbone in his palm. “i mean, you don’t wanna end up looking like _me_ , now, do you?”

“OF COURSE I’D WANT TO LOOK LIKE YOU,” Sans immediately answered, to his actual surprise. “A MORE DASHING, MORE FASHIONABLE VERSION OF YOU, HOWEVER! YOU’VE ALWAYS TAKEN YOUR HEIGHT AND YOUR SLIMNESS FOR GRANTED! IF I HAD THAT KIND OF PHYSIQUE, IMAGINE HOW MAJESTIC I COULD BE!”

“ahaha…” Papyrus’s laugh held a hint of nervousness and uncertainty. It was…dangerous, unreasonable, for Sans to aspire to his sort of body shape…he simply wasn’t built that way. That wasn’t the way his body worked—it was completely different. But he had a feeling that Sans wouldn’t believe it right now. “well, then…ya wouldn’t be _you_ anymore, bro,” Papyrus delicately stated. “you don’t need all that, y’know? you just needta be you.”

“TRUE, YES. BUT I BELIEVE IT’S HIGH TIME I MADE A FEW LITTLE IMPROVEMENTS TO MY GREATNESS!”

Sans’s expanded eye-lights were twinkling with his own self-assurance, and even though Papyrus still felt incredibly skeptical about all of this, he decided not to resist any further. If this was what he truly wanted…he supposed he’d try to support him as best he could. The guilt clouding over him was still too stifling…there was no way he could try to force Sans to accept changes to his body that he didn’t want, just because he’d need it to experiment with. That was horribly selfish and inconsiderate to his feelings…

“alright…” Papyrus sighed and flicked another tiny piece of toast into his jaw. “jus promise not to hurt yourself, ‘kay?”

“TO THE CONTRARY, THIS WILL BE THE EXACT OPPOSITE OF HURTING! I’M HEALTH-ING!” With a matter-of-fact plonk, Sans plopped back into his chair, stubby booted legs swinging out in front of him. With one hand, he shoved the rest of his slice of toast into his mouth, as if eager to get it over with, forcing it down.

“you should ask alphys for some tips or somethin’,” Papyrus added, as it occurred to him. “cause everyone knows, i don’t know jack about diets and all that junk.” He finished off his own toast as Sans considered, tugging at the edge of his bandanna-scarf in contemplation.

“…YEAH! ALPHYS PROBABLY COULD…OH, STARS!! _ALPHYS_!!!” The small skeleton bolted from his seat, hurling himself into a little blue tornado as he rushed upstairs and through the house. “THAT’S RIGHT—TODAY IS TRAINING DAY!! AAAAAAAAAGH, I HAD NEARLY FORGOTTEN!”

Despite his trepidations, Papyrus broke into chuckles. Seeing his brother so full of energy like this always lightened his heart. Plus, he knew how much he adored training time with the captain of the Royal Guard…they were getting to be such good friends, and he was just so glad.

Sans was all grins and excitement when he halted in front of the doorway, swaying to and fro and rocking on the balls of his bony feet. “HURRY UP, YOU LAZY LUMP OF MARROW! YOU NEED TO BE AT YOUR STATION!”

With a groan, Papyrus hauled himself up, rubbing at his perpetually-tired eye-sockets. Wow…… It was a bit of surprise, actually…his brother was already dressed and ready in his workout clothes—a pair of black basketball shorts, floppy sneakers similar to his own, a fuzzy headband, and a light blue tank top with the words “Run Guy” printed across the front. Though, he couldn’t help but note how the elastic band of the shorts pinched into his puffy blue sides, creating a little bulgy muffin top, slightly visible under the hem of the tank top. Sure, he _had_ put on weight, but…this whole diet thing still didn’t sit right with him.

“jumping the gun a little, aren’t ya? don’t you usually change _after_ you get to Alphys’s house?”

“I JUST CANNOT WAIT! I’M ALREADY RUNNING BEHIND SCHEDULE AS IS! NOW GO, GO, GO!”

Papyrus gave himself over, literally letting Sans push him out the door, and then the small skelly sprinted for his life in the opposite direction. He barely got to call out a well-meaning “see you later”, before his eager brother had entirely disappeared, moving five times as fast as the steady flow of massive ice blocks down the river.

Kicking up some powdery snow with the toes of his sneakers, Papyrus naturally settled his hands in his hoodie pockets and began to casually shuffle off through town. He’d have to take a pop over to Hotland in a little while to pick up some fabric for Sans’s new costume…set up his sewing apparatus once more…but right now, he just couldn’t. Everything was still too…nebulous.

The horribly unsettled feeling just refused to leave. It made sense, considering the sort of knowledge he’d been saddled with last night, but still… It would be nice to _not_ feel like the world would dissolve out from underneath him at any second. To not feel that every word, every thought that came from the depths of his soul was the product of some errant virus and didn’t even belong to him.

Papyrus gave a weak grin and waved at a friendly black bear standing outside Muffet’s café. Normally, he’d go in for a quick bite and a chat, but...his heart just wouldn’t go along with it. He was utterly, completely consumed with these uncertain sensations. On the one hand, he desperately needed to know more. It was just part of his nature to examine everything from every angle, figure out how it worked, how and why everything was the way it was…and then, to play with it. More than anything, he needed to encompass this whole perpetual barrier issue as well. It needed to become part of his awareness amalgamation…the only good kind of amalgamation. But on the other hand, he’d love nothing more than to forget it ever existed…

Just last night, when he’d huddled in his room, awake all night, he’d wished he could just disappear, rather than face the cold facts that their universe was askew. That part of him cursed his unrelenting curiosity. He never should have stolen his brother’s energy like that…all to penetrate a magical resistance that was never meant to be breached and discovering an even bigger conundrum.

Of course, Papyrus hadn’t told Sans about any of this yet. It was natural and easy for him to keep secrets—he’d been doing it practically all his life. But…eventually, it would have to come out. As much as he hated involving his sweet little brother in his dangerous time-bending experiments, it just wasn’t right to keep all of this from him forever. He was part of this now, too. And Papyrus dreaded telling him almost even more than going back beyond the bubble.

Suddenly, he’d made up his mind and turned an about-face, heading straight home. Somehow, he’d convinced himself to do this…he realized what needed to be done, and he would push himself towards it. As much as he may not want to face it…he knew it would help. It had to be done.

Papyrus shuddered the key into the lock on the secret back door to their cabin, a very special purpose in mind. The battered soles of his sneakers rubbed over the cold, tiled floor as he shifted in, swiftly clanking the door behind him. It was surprisingly clean in here, for him, but that was just because it was rarely used—only a few times in the past five months, really.

This…was his hidden laboratory. It was pretty small…and dark…and bare. But it served its purpose—concealing the dangers of the old lab and locking them away so they could never be used again. Why hadn’t he just destroyed them? Well, that was a whole other story. But either way, it was all here now, and he had to deal with it.

Amongst the piles of messy, uneven papers on the back shelf sat the one instrument he’d come here for. Something he definitely needed to address if he wanted to make any progress on this case…and apparently, he’d decided that he wanted to. With slightly hesitant, trembling phalanges, Papyrus grasped the black box with the giant, wobbling antenna sticking out from the top. Bringing it up close…close…shifting the dotted little back speaker a mere two centimeters away from his long, clenching teeth. Then he flicked it on and softly spoke…

“this is beanpole to h2ota… beanpole to h2ota…come in h2ota…”

“ _Uwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaugh_!!!”

The scream erupted immediately and so forcefully that Papyrus nearly fumbled and dropped the receiver, yanking it away from his face in a flash. “good god, undyne!” He spat, privately.

“Oh my Goooooooddddd! You actually _called me_! I can’t believe it! Oh my _God_!!! How...U-Um, how should I respond?! Um, what is it, Papyr…er, Beanpole?! State your business! Or…um…is anything wrong? You okay?”

Sure, he’d expected her to be shocked and excited, considering he hadn’t actually called her in nearly a year…but it was still jarring, especially with the sort of news he needed to discuss with her right now.

“just calm down, undyne, jeez. no need for the code names or anything now—it’s fine. i needta…talk to you about something. something i discovered just a little while ago. it’s…kinda important.”

“Aaaaaaaaaaahh!! OhmyGod!! Just like old times, huh? What did you find?! A new facet of your abilities, perhaps? Something about, um…her? Or…?”

“no, no, undyne, it’s… um…something much different. look…it’s hardta explain, but i’m gonna need your help. a lot of it, really.”

“Ohgosh, ohgosh, ohgosh, um…you sure I’m up to that sort of task? I mean, yeah, I’m the Royal Scientist, but…”

“’stoo much to tell you now. i’ll come over next week and we’ll discuss it, but…for right now, i just wanted to let you know about it in advance. we might, uh…need a few supplies. i’m sure you got ‘em, though.”

“A-Ah! I…I need to c-clean, and…and there’s all this stuff lying about that… I-I’m sorry it’s so… Thanks, ‘Pyrus…”

“ _papyrus_ , yo. only my brother calls me that.”

“Th-th-that’s right! Ahhhhhhhh, sorry, sorry!! Please still come over!”

“of course i’m still comin’…” Though he knew she couldn’t see it, Papyrus cracked a cheeky grin on his side of the enhanced walkie-talkie. “…fish tits.”

“Eewwww!! Alright, alright, I’m sorry!” Though she still seemed nervous, Undyne’s voice giggled on the opposite end. “I’ll, um…look forward to your visit. Uh…bye-bye now, I gotta clean!!”

Though one piece of Papyrus’s heart felt a twinge of regret for dragging her into this, another piece rejoiced at sharing it with someone…at being able to lift some of the pressure from his shoulders. It felt selfish to hoist his troubles onto someone else, but...at the same time, he was incredibly relieved.

He smiled, placing the old walkie-talkie back onto the shelf, behind the stacks of disorganized papers. There. Something would be done. He could rest assured that something _would_ be done. _What_ , he had no idea…but it would happen. Together, with his old colleague, he was confident they could come up with a solution. However…

With a slight scowl and a shove of his hands back into his pockets, Papyrus realized something distressing. No matter what he did to investigate this, he’d require the use of his brother’s energy again. It was doubtful that they’d be able to bypass that aspect altogether. How would he break this to him? How to tell him, to ask him? He’d better start the preparations… And the first step would be the construction of his replacement outfit.

As usual, Papyrus stepped outside and locked the lab up tight before blipping out. A gift would probably make this easier… But a sick little swirl inside of him wouldn’t relent.

Sans… More than anything…he only wanted him to be okay.

(-)

It hurt…it felt so…sore and uncomfortable. Burning inside with _need_ … But Sans continually reminded himself that it was for his own good. This was what he needed…what he deserved, after everything. This was a good pain, a healthy pain. The pain of self-improvement, self-advancement. So…why did it feel so much like punishment?

….Because it really _was_ punishment. Punishment for the disgusting way he’d been acting lately…for being so greedy and gluttonous and disgraceful.

As he made his way toward Waterfall that afternoon, Sans pushed himself forward, forcefully ignoring the sickly gnawing emptiness of his magical belly extension. This was what he deserved—exactly what it deserved, for misbehaving so much. He held himself to a higher standard that this…the Magnificent Sans should _never_ have these shameful problems. He was better than this. He _should_ be better than this.

Each time he thought about relenting—just giving in and feeding himself to satiation—he conjured the memory of that horrendous night. His stupid stomach had gotten him into far too many humiliating situations lately. This discomfort was purely justice. Strangely, it made Sans proud—he was taking control of himself, properly disciplining himself…and a deep part of him even craved the punishment. Disgusting, greedy body he’d been coddling for far too long…finally meting out its just desserts. Desserts…

Crossing a bridge over the glowing, pale, atmospheric water, Sans practically slapped himself. No desserts! No desserts ever again! That would be quite a challenge, but one he’d certainly step up to!

At last, he drew close to his destination…a domed building tucked away between two high cliff faces. The very sight of it was enough to intimidate passersby…but Sans beamed, sprinting the rest of the way and energetically pounding on its tooth-shaped door.

Alphys’s house was fashioned in the shape of a huge yellow lizard head, quite similar to her own, its razor teeth-doorway curved into a menacing grin. So very appropriate, and so glaringly obvious…yet somehow, people still tended to pass it by without really noticing its presence. Perhaps it was just the location. But either way, Sans thought it was the coolest house in all of existence…well, aside from his own, naturally.

After a moment of muffled clanging and crashing, the toothy doorway slid open, revealing a burly lizard monster matching its exterior, her head-spikes pulled back like a hairstyle. To anyone else, the sight of the Royal Guard’s captain would be terribly intimidating. Alphys was only an inch taller than Sans, but her thick, muscled arms and legs were enough to crack skulls. A few scars ran jagged lines across her face, splitting her scales, and her left eye was covered by an eyepatch. Sharp teeth poked out from her upper jaw. But at least she was unarmored—dressed in her casual outfit of a black tank top, worn-down jeans, and a pair of brown boots. The mere sight of Alphys in full Guard armor was enough to send any monster running for the bathroom.

Sans was completely undaunted, however, admiring twinkles popping into his sockets, bouncing up and down on his knees in excitement. “ALPHYS!! REPORTING IN FOR TRAINING TIME!!”

“Heh.” Her one visible eye blinked, her small hands rested on her wide hips, and her snout broke into a huge, pointy grin. “Man, Sans, you changed already?! Dude, you must be _pumped_!”

“UH-UH!” Sans spread his face into a toothy grin, just as wide and shining, and clenched his arms up, flexing nonexistent muscles. “FOR I AM THE ONE WHO WILL BE DOING THE PUMPING! I’M SO READY TODAY! BRING ON THE SATCHELS OF HEAVY GRAIN! THE MAGNIFICENT SANS WILL POUND THEM INTO PULP!”

“ _Hell_ yeah!” The enthusiasm was contagious. Alphys stepped forward and clapped him on the shoulder, proudly, though she quietly chuckled. “Today we’re gonna give it 110 to the 20 percent!” Math had…never really been her strong suit. “Ehh…”

Sans was poised, ready to dash right into the house, but Alphys held him back a moment, glancing back past her round, yellow shoulder. “Actually, though… I was gonna start with our cooking lesson, like usual. That way we can have lunch all ready after we’re done. Makes the most sense.”

“OH…” Sans practically felt his heart turn a little flip-flop. A quick glimpse of the house’s interior revealed several blocks of steamy imitation meat, canisters and containers, and a row of taco shells all lined up on the kitchen counter. _Cooking lesson_. Of course. How could he have forgotten?

His sneakers scraping on the threshold, Sans felt a sudden heat—a burst of _anger_ flaring up through him. Anger. Because he wanted them. He wanted them, and he couldn’t have them, and how dare she? And how dare he feel such desire for them? Anger at himself, for making this such a problem. “NO!” He snapped, before he could really stop himself. “NO COOKING TODAY! ONLY TRAINING! I’M TIRED OF COOKING ALL THE TIME!”

“Really?” Alphys tapped her foot, skeptically. “You love it when we make tacos, though. And creating your own meals is an important part of becoming a warrior as well, you know!”

“I KNOW, I KNOW!”

Surprisingly, the stalwart lizard was a bit taken aback by the way Sans was acting, stepping back as he twisted his face into a frustrated, clenching scowl.

“BUT I HAVE NO NEED OF THAT NOW! WHAT I REQUIRE THE MOST IS EXERCISE!”

“Uh…well, if you’re really sure. ‘Spose we can start with that.” Her entire demeanor seemed a bit confused and uncomfortable as she dragged out the mats and sandbags and benches they would use to work out. A piece of Sans felt slightly guilty for snapping at her like that…for rejecting her generosity. But…this was what he _had_ to do, if he was ever going to improve himself.

As he watched his honored mentor transport everything outside, lending her a hand here and there, Papyrus’s words from that morning flitted back to his mind. About telling Alphys he was on a diet and asking her advice…… No. No, he couldn’t do that. It was just too shameful. Sans looked up to Alphys, admired her more than almost anyone in the universe. There was no way he could tell her he was dieting…to admit that he _needed_ to diet. Though his gross, protruding middle should make it obvious…as long as he didn’t say anything, they could just continue to ignore it. And he greatly preferred it that way.

Several minutes later, everything was set up, and the two of them stepped outside, discussing their routine for today’s session. Sans eventually calmed himself, and Alphys brightened, jabbering on about the fighting positions he’d test out today, and the way he should string the jabs and punches together. The dark, yet comforting atmosphere of this tucked-away little area in Waterfall made it feel private, homely.

Soon enough, Sans sprang into action, stretching himself against the mat in a jiffy and breaking into a warm-up jog around its perimeter. Alphys monitored him with a sideways smirk as she repeatedly smashed the sandbag against the rock wall. It was a small miracle that she hadn’t caused a rockslide on her own property by now. Their friendship was an odd one, for sure…but it was something they both truly valued.

Around the time Papyrus and Sans had first moved into Snowdin, Sans had been bursting with excitement that he now lived slightly closer to the captain of the Royal Guard. Despite his brother’s warning not to bother her, he’d discovered her home’s location and parked himself right outside, using his most lethal puppydog face to beg her for training. At first, it had been completely ineffective against the hardened lizard warrior… But, seeing him standing there outside all day, parading about and shouting out his pleas, literally bouncing off the walls, she’d eventually given in. He had an incredible amount of determination with a regular “D”—another perfect example of how willful monsters could really be when they set their hearts to something. And in a way, Sans reminded Alphys a lot of herself—small, yet packing a wallop, possessing a fire deep inside that refused to give up, that relentlessly pursued its dreams. And she couldn’t overlook that.

Since then, they’d gotten on like a pair of explosive peas in a pod. Sans’s love affair with tacos had begun with her—perhaps another reason why he’d started cooking and eating so many of them. And their sessions really helped Alphys unwind after stressful days of patrolling for humans and keeping unruly monsters in line. Thus far, today seemed to be the same.

Sans threw punches and kicks at the heavy bag, which was bigger than he was, and Alphys patiently corrected his posture and form with taps at his exposed joints. A few glistening drops of sweat coated parts of his bones, and it felt like such a great release, the mood-enhancing energy running through his body from the physical activity.

They’d reached the usual midpoint of their physical training session, the metaphorical tail of the sandbag portion, when Sans got an idea. The squish of his gelatinous sides against his arm bones reminded him—that bulbous stomach-sack was comprised of his own magic, wasn’t it? So…he had to use more magic! Simply exercising his body wouldn’t be enough to decrease its girth.

While Alphys rarely used magic in battle, preferring to do things hand-to-hand, Sans had learned some amazing bone attacks from Papyrus, and frankly, those were his specialty. If he ever really had to fight a human, he imagined he’d rely on those most of all. Might as well practice those, too!

With an unseen gust of manifesting magic, Sans stepped back and summoned several long, neon blue bones, clenching them in his fingers for a moment before lobbing them at the sandbag with all his might, pouring even more magical force into the trajectory. These were part of his own abilities—separate from the “orange attack” he’d been learning from Papyrus recently. There was nothing to try his orange attack on here, though, so this would have to do.

The sensation of the magic energy leaving his body was somehow cathartic, and Sans found himself laughing. He had to do more! Get rid of it! Get rid of it all! More and more bones popped into existence—small ones, tall ones, wiggling, moving ones, even a few connected in the shape of letters. And they collided with the sandbag in bursts of bright, blue-tinted light.

“HAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHA!!” Sans’s large eye-lights shined brighter amidst the tornado of his own magic, feeling lightheaded and giddy. His limbs trembled, starting to tire out, but he kept on going. He swore he could practically _feel_ his excess tummy baggage melting away. Good. Good for it. Let it die. Let it wilt.

At last, he vaguely felt something insistently tapping on his shoulder-blade…and he turned, to take in one slightly flustered, perspiring Alphys.

“ _Dude_ , _Sans_!! I think that’s far enough. I didn’t even _say_ you could use your magic, for Pete’s sake.”

“AH--” The short skeleton let his magical sheen disintegrate, finally noticing what was going on. A handful of bones had been lodged into the sandbag, slicing through parts of its material, letting a bit of the tiny grains spill out. Maybe he’d gone a liiiitle overboard.

Alphys snorted. “Dammit, that’s the third sandbag I’ve had to replace this week.”

“UM, SORRY…” Sans sheepishly scratched at the base of his skull. “I GUESS I GOT TOO EXCITED. THAT TENDS TO HAPPEN.”

“Ah, I know that.” Fortunately, Alphys could never stay upset at him for long. She rubbed the top of his skull with a forceful fist, making him twitch a bit. “C’mon. You did well today, though, kid. Let’s chill out with taco time.”

“NO!” The outburst was immediate and aggressive. Even Sans himself couldn’t believe the sharpness in his voice. As he closed his eyes and felt every little lump and thick layer of manifested magic substance nudging against his clothes, a crazed anger seized him. Fury at his own body, his diet, food in general. He couldn’t. He just couldn’t. He needed more. More punishment!

To Alphys’s puzzled, gaping expression, Sans tore away from her and practically slammed his whole body back down onto the exercise mat. “I’M NOT…DONE! I NEED A LOT MORE…A LOT MORE EXERCISE AND… J-JUST LOOK AT ME! I NEED…TO GET…R-RID OF _ALL THIS_!” Before she could even question it, he was flinging himself into crazed push-ups against the mat.

By now, Sans could barely think straight. All that throbbed through his mind was the need to obliterate his mass, crush his offending protrusion, utterly refuse the tempting treats that had gotten him into this mess, and tear his misbehaving body until it would never misbehave so much again. All of his frustration, all of his self-loathing, self-disgust, and self-flagellation pulsed into his limps, spurning them to fold and shove in a rapid, mad jitter of activity. Each part of his body burned, forced to work past its point of comfort, yet he just pushed it harder, determined to really… _hurt_ it. Mindlessly, he pushed himself to his feet and broke into manic jumping jacks. A few times, his arms smacked against his sides so hard, they stung, like they might bruise. This was no longer exercise…this was self-harm.

“Sans, you’re _fine_!” Alphys shouted at him. Her fists clenched, anxiously, knowing that something was wrong, but still baffled by his behavior. “I _told_ you that’s good enough! Now, get inside!”

“N-NONONONONO!” Panting, soaking in sweat, and heaving, Sans’s face pinched in pain, and he dropped onto his back, immediately flinging himself into the most aggressive sit-ups she’d ever seen. “NO _FOOD_! NO MORE _FOOD_! I HATE…I HATE…I HATE IT!!!” Tears squeezed from the edges of his shut eyelids, and everything, everything hurt…but that was what he _deserved_ , that was what his disgusting, selfish, uncontrolled, unsightly stomach-sack _deserved_! Destroy it, destroy it, destroy it!!!

“Sans, _stop_!” Finally, Alphys couldn’t take it anymore—she’d have to directly intervene. “Stop it!” She sprang into action, seizing him around the bony wrists with her thick, clawed hands and trying to halt him. He resisted, fighting to keep crunching his middle, even as tears of agony trailed down his cheekbones…but it didn’t last for long.

“I _said_ , knock it off!!” Exerting her full strength, Alphys finally pinned Sans down to the mat, forcing his exercise rampage to a halt.

“Aaah…aaagh…” As much as he struggled, he could barely move his body anymore, locked into the lizard warrior’s impressive hold…and he finally let his burning, bruising hypothetical muscles relax. A few more tears spilled over with their release, though he refused to open his eyes, refused to look at his idyllic mentor. He couldn’t. He just couldn’t, he couldn’t deal with any of this now. He just…wanted to evaporate.

“Hnng…” Alphys grunted as she shifted herself upward, keeping her claws firmly pressed to Sans’s shoulders, but lifting, to get a good look at him. “The hell has gotten into you, Sans? I mean, I understand wanting to push yourself to the limit. I totally get that. But that was…”

Against the mat, Sans let out a breathy whine, turning his face away. “J-Just…just leave me. I don’t… I wanna…I wanna go home. I’m…s-sorry…”

Alphys wouldn’t let go. Her face started to show genuine concern, eyebrows pinching even above her eyepatch. “Hey…are you alright? I know I…might not be the greatest listener, but…if anything’s really wrong, you can always tell me about it. I don’t mind taking a little time to talk…”

Weakly, Sans shook his head. “No. I just… w-wanna go home. I wanna go home.”

With a heavy sigh, Alphys finally peeled herself away, though she shook her head, worriedly. “Okay… If that’s what you really feel you need. Hey…just remember that, okay? I want you to feel well—I don’t ever want to hurt ya…” She honestly had no idea what could be bothering him so much like this. There was nothing to be so worked up over. Where had all this even come from?

“Y-Yeah, I…” Sans shivered…and slowly, limply pulled himself back to his feet. His bones were still all sweaty, and even though his shorts had slipped downward slightly, the roundness of his middle had shrunken, still leaving only a sliver of it visible. Feeling awkward and apologetic, he clutched his arms close to his chest. “I’m sorry… I th-thank you, but…I’m sorry.”

“It’s _okay_ , Sans, really…”

A few more mutters of regret and concern, and Sans was making his way back towards Snowdin on wobbly knees. It just hurt…everything hurt so much, and he didn’t know what to do about it. But no matter what, he told himself. No matter what, he definitely wouldn’t eat tacos anymore. Or any sweets.

The Magnificent Sans was going to make himself magnificent again, even if it killed him.

(-)

 _Click_.

It was late. It was much too late, by the time the small skeleton came, dragging anchor, through the front door. Returning home at this hour was never unusual for Papyrus, but _Sans_ … Usually, he’d have made dinner and eaten it and watched two hours’ worth of NTT by now. It was a little strange for Papyrus, not having any fresh tacos laid out for him. Fortunately, he had plenty of honey graham crackers stashed away to munch on while he worked. _Worked_. What a strange day this had turned out to be.

Papyrus couldn’t say he hadn’t been worried, as the minutes ticked by and his little brother still hadn’t appeared…but he _was_ with Alphys, after all. Maybe they’d just decided to spend the whole day hanging out together. However…the moment Sans stepped into the room, he just knew it wasn’t anything good.

His brother looked…tired. _Exhausted_ , even. It looked so strange and so _wrong_ on his round, chipper little face. The plates of his shoulders slouched inward, the lights in his sockets were dimmer…and those sockets seemed grayer, tinged with a sickly, distressed shadow at the lower edge. Coldness trickled through Papyrus’s heart just to see it…this sort of thing never belonged on his bright little brother’s face. No…no, no…

“sans?” He gently spoke, testing the waters, as Sans ambled in his direction. “everything go well with alphys today?”

“YEH.”

The volume was there…but the life, the exuberance was simply missing. He passed right by Papyrus, climbing the stairs and clutching tight to the railing. “…WHAT’VE YOU BEEN DOING ALL DAY?”

A tiny ghost of a smile finally cracked at Papyrus’s teeth. This was a little bit familiar, at least…Sans’s anticipation of his laziness, probably preparing to chide him for it, as usual.

“well, believe it or not, bro, i actually did something.” He hefted himself from the couch, shuffling in his baggy hoodie. “c’mere, i gotta little gift for you.”

“……IN A SECOND.” The fact that he didn’t immediately leap up to the ceiling at the word “gift” was also disturbing.

Papyrus crossed his arms and waited, while Sans shut himself in his room, shuffling and bumping around a bit behind it. Maybe he should try to steal Alphys’s number from his phone…just in case anything had happened between them…

Soon enough, Sans was carefully tapping back downstairs, fully dressed in his typical battle attire again. The puffy, tied ends of his blue bandanna/scarf bobbed with each step. “W-WHAT HAVE YOU GOT FOR ME?” A small spark of curiosity and excitement returned to his eyes as he stopped a few feet away and stared up at Papyrus. “IT HAD BEST NOT BE SOME CHILDISH PRANK.”

“da-dada-daaaaah!” Feeling slightly proud, Papyrus grabbed the bundle that had been sitting, folded up, beside him on the couch, and untucked it with a flourishing shake. In his hands were Sans’s new clothes—new shirts and a new pair of pants. The shoulder-pads and everything else didn’t need to be adjusted, so thankfully, he hadn’t had to remake those as well. Yet, he was still pretty impressed at how quickly he’d been able to reproduce these. Guess he really had been—just slightly—motivated. “i finished your new clothes, all by myself! incredible, huh? go try ‘em on for me…”

Papyrus held them out to him, but…he didn’t take them. Sans looked uncharacteristically angry, turning away and grinding his teeth together.

“um, sans…?”

“…AH HAH! WAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” Suddenly, he burst into mad laughter, practically throwing his skull back with the force of it. Light flared into his sockets again, but a mad, obsessive light that honestly made Papyrus a bit uneasy. His hands planted at his hips, and he widely grinned up at him in prideful glee. “AH, BUT YOU SEE—I HAVE NO _NEED_ FOR SUCH A THING!”

Tipping his middle forward a bit and puffing out his chest, Sans displayed the waistline of his outfit. And indeed, it did seem to fit now…the pants easily zippered and buttoned, even giving him enough space to tuck his shirt in. The soft, curving pad of his belly could just barely be seen, pushing slightly at the shirt fabric…but not tight, not tight at all. “AHAHAHAHA! SEE, LOOK!! IT FITS!!! IT FITS PERFECTLY FINE!! IT FITS ME LIKE A GLOVE!! WHY WOULD YOU EVER EVEN _THINK_ THAT I NEED NEW CLOTHES?! I’LL _NEVER_ NEED THOSE STUPID CLOTHES!! HAHAHAHA…ah…ahhh…”

Sans’s sockets briefly pressed closed, and he swayed backwards, dizzily. Papyrus let the cloth fall from his hands, reaching out to his brother in an instant…but thankfully, he saved himself from toppling back at the last moment.

“Ah…” He panted a bit, clapping a hand to the forehead of his skull and forcefully steadying himself again.

“sans.” Papyrus understood what was going on here now. And he pushed a hard edge into his voice. No. For Sans’s belly to shrink that much…for him to lose that much weight in just a single day… It wasn’t healthy at all. “what have you eaten today? tell me.”

“Um…” The wave of dizziness had at least calmed him a little. His eye-lights faded down again, and he hunched inward with exhaustion. “…The…THE TOAST FROM THIS MORNING…WATER…A FEW BITES OF A WATER SAUSAGE…AND, UM…A CRAB APPLE.”

God, no wonder. That wasn’t even enough energy to live on. He definitely hadn’t asked Alphys to help with his diet, because she certainly would never recommended this.

Something felt sick in the pits of Papyrus’s own stomach. It literally hurt to see his dear brother acting this way…depriving himself, starving himself even. And knowing that he hadn’t helped. His brows slanted upward, pinching together with worry and internal distress. “sans…”

“GOING TO BED NOW—I’M TIRED.”

Before he could even begin, Sans swiveled and marched straight back up the stairs to his room. For a while, Papyrus could do nothing but stare with complete anxiety. It was taking practically all of his willpower not to break down.

Once his stiff bones were able to move again, he scooped the rejected clothing off the floor, carefully folding it up again. Oh no, he’d expended way too much effort on making these things to just get rid of them.

As soundlessly as he could, he crept into Sans’s room, fully prepared for their typical night of bedtime stories. But Sans was already dead asleep, probably too drained from his lack of energy to even stay awake for that. It was so upsetting…

With a shiver, Papyrus finally just gave up and hid himself in his own room as well. No matter what, if nothing changed tomorrow, he would have to do something. No matter what, he was going to save his little brother…even if he had to save him from himself.

(-)

Everything was such a struggle. Every hour brought fresh worry and pain. As if Papyrus hadn’t had enough to deal with concerning this whole unsettling barrier issue and the sense that the universe was off-kilter.

That day, he’d resorted to smoking outside several times in an attempt to calm himself, but Sans was being even more stringent about it than usual, probably a side effort of _constant_ _hunger_. It had been enough of a battle getting him to have _anything_ for breakfast, and Papyrus had nearly lost his cool and just shoved the small muffin straight through his little jaw. It was a small miracle that an honest-to-goodness bone battle hadn’t broken out over the kitchen table, and it was fortunate too, because that was a fight poor Sans would never win.

It was just a regular patrol day…but Sans never went out to patrol. He simply refused to take a step out into town during the daylight, and Papyrus guiltily wondered if that had anything to do with the dreaded “Muffet’s Incident”. He told him not to worry about it, that everyone had probably completely forgotten it by now, that it had only been a small portion of the town’s population who had been witnessed it anyway…but it was all useless. Sans still barely ate all day. Barely even did anything, besides filling in his puzzle books, watching NTT, and doing a small bit of cleaning.

The brothers each kept to themselves, scarcely talking, each trapped in their own personal turmoil. But it was when Sans slipped from the couch in the middle of Napstaton’s musical special hour, saying he was going to bed early, when Papyrus decided he needed to follow.

A beat…and his tall body lifted, moving up the stairs as if possessed. He even knew the perfect pretense. He was going to use it. Now or never.

As soon as Papyrus stepped into the immaculate blue-carpeted room, he felt the difference from last night. He was awake. The whole atmosphere, the ripples of life in the air…it all felt so cold, so dark… So encompassing that it began to seep into his own heart as well. Silent.

“…er, bro. i’m here now.”

No response. That was alarming…but he couldn’t say he hadn’t been expecting it. Sans would never usually outright ignore him like this…

Shuffling closer and hunching his back, Papyrus could see that his little brother was bunched into a blanket ball, pressing into the crack against the wall at the very edge of his choo-choo-train bed. Still awake, by the scent of his buzzing awareness. The pain dabbed his heart again, and a moment later, he was seating himself at the opposite edge, worriedly looking over to the squeezed-in ball. Sans was trembling, round little head tucked down, the sheen of his skull barely visible.

“…hey. so, we ready for some fuzzy kitten? i’m all set for the fuzzy kitten hide-and-seek hour.”

Still no reply. This was really, really serious, if he was completely refusing Hide-and-Seek with Fuzzy Kitten. “sans…”

Barely, a tiny, muffled whimper whined out…and it was too much. Papyrus’s heart was going to break, seeing his sunshiny little Sans so defeated. No. It didn’t matter if he was upset later, if he screamed at him or attacked him, he couldn’t stand this even a second longer.

Boldly, worriedly, Papyrus gathered the fabric into his large, bony hand…and tore the covers away, with all of his desperation.

“AH!” Sans cried out, twisting around. He wore only his blue pants and his short-sleeved, white undershirt. But most noticeable of all………pale blue tear trails were streaked over his plump cheekbones, like messy, runny watercolors. Another little droplet beaded out, joining them. His bright, magical eye-lights were shrunken—small ping-pong balls of neon… His expression was so…utterly agonized. Eye-sockets molded inward, toothy mouth small and curved down, barely even showing. It was heartbreaking just to look at.

“I-I-It’s okay, P-Pyrus…” Sans shivered, even as Papyrus firmly grasped his shoulder. His skull shifted to the side, breaking away. “No need for…F-Fuzzy Kitten tonight. You can…g-go to bed.”

“sans.” Papyrus seized his distraught little brother’s face, insistently pulling him closer, forcing him to look at him. His poor little body shuddered in fear, tears bubbling up again, just at the very edges of his sockets. “i can’t…do this anymore. please, ‘lil bro. you know I care for you, no matter what. so you gotta let me help.”

Sans accepted the tears, pressing his sockets closed and letting them drip down his face. His hands desperately grasped at Papyrus’s wrists, feebly attempting to pull him back.

“sans.” Papyrus steadily repeated his name, hoping the security of his voice would calm him. “i want the best for you. i just want you to be happy and safe, you know that. so please, sans… i know you’re suffering right now, and i just want it to stop.”

A choking little noise dragged out of Sans’s throat, his insides twisting with anxiety. But he wasn’t going to give in now.

“i know you feel bad about your weight…but you’re hurting yourself. and it’s completely unnecessary. and I can’t stand to see this, sans. why? please…please, just talk to me…”

“’Py…rrrus…” Sans’s small body violently shuddered, curling and bunching and attempting to bundle itself back under the covers, to just hide, to disappear. “I…c-can’t…I just…I can’t…I…” And all at once, the intense bubble of pressure finally burst.

“I HATE MYSELF!” The sound of his pained, desperate, tear-soaked voice cut deep into Papyrus’s heart. “I HATE MYSELF, I HATE MYSELF, I HATE MYSELF, I HATE MYSELF…!!”

“Sans! Sans, no!” In a fit of heartache, Papyrus seized his shoulders, forcefully steadying his uncontrollable tremors. More tears bubbled from his clenched eye-sockets, flowing fast and hot.

“I JUST WANT TO TURN TO DUST AND DISAPPEAR! I HATE MYSELF SO MUCH!”

Before he could rationalize it, Papyrus slapped his hands to Sans’s cheeks, the bones clanking together, and wrenched his skull in against his chest so hard, it felt like he might crack. Sans gave off a choked shout of alarm, and warm, moist tears bled into the front of Papyrus’s hoodie.

“Sans, no.” Papyrus’s voice was so unusually loud, demanding. He never spoke with proper capitalization, unless he was seriously agitated or raising an objection. “Sans, don’t you ever, ever say that. I never, ever want to hear you say that again. You hear me?! You understand?! Don’t you _ever_.”

Poor little Sans shuddered so hard, it seemed he might just jangle all of his bones apart. All he could get out was a strangled squeak.

Tears welled up at the edges of Papyrus’s smaller sockets as well…and he hugged gentler, with all his love, enfolding his dear brother in layers of comfort and affection. “Oh, Sans. Oh, Sans, your life is worth so, so much more than any stupid diet. You are way, way more important than your own pride and shame and self-loathing. Sans, you are worth everything in this whole cursed Underground…no, the whole universe. Never, ever even _think_ that ever again.”

“Uhhhh…” Tiny breaths wheezed from Sans’s body, punctuated by shivery sighs. His small body hunched in smaller, curling against his older brother’s soft hoodie, nudging the ribcage underneath. At least it seemed like he was starting to accept it, reciprocate the affections. Papyrus felt him puff out an unsteady sigh.

“B-B-But-but…” His voice was barely above a whisper. “B-b-being _fat_ , I just… I’m so…angry with myself. Disappointed and disgusted with myself. I could never be a member of the Royal Guard like this. Everyone…laughs, because I’m so pathetic. I can’t. I can’t _live_ with myself. I don’t know how…anyone could l-like me this way…” The pale blue watercolors of his streaking tears glistened in the nearby lamp-light when he pulled his head a centimeter back.

“who taught you that?” Papyrus spoke softer, more gentle and caring, though still just as firm. “who ever made you feel that you should feel that way? because i know alphys never would.”

“U-Uh…I dunno…E-Everyone?”

Everyone. Though it was no wonder he couldn’t pinpoint an exact source. It was everywhere—on TV, in papers, in casual conversations… This notion that if you were pudgy, if you ate more than “normal”, you ought to be ashamed of yourself. You weren’t only unattractive, but also somehow less morally upstanding. You were corrupted, destroyed by your own hands, and in desperate need of “fixing”. No wonder.

Papyrus tucked Sans’s round little shoulder in tight, nuzzling, showing him all the love he could muster to mend his bruised little soul. He sniffled…but a hesitant little hand slightly cupped around his elbow in return, and that only squeezed his own heart a little more. Dear Sans…gentle, sweet Sans… The metaphorical light of his life. Never, ever, ever did he ever deserve to have such horrible, self-depreciating messages carved into his heart. It would take a long time for these wounds to fully heal…and perhaps they never would. But he could help…he could soothe them and tend to them with all that he had. And he would never give in.

“well…you know what i know for a fact?”

Sans’s innocent, waterlogged eye-lights blinked back at him with curiosity.

“i’m a scientist, remember? i know a lot of things. and one thing i know for sure is that…everyone is wrong.”

“H-H-How?” Sans choked over his words again, wrenching his head from side-to-side. “Being fat like that is unhealthy. It’s really bad. Everyone knows that!”

“you _were_ healthy. you were perfectly healthy before…you started all this… you didn’t feel sick before, did you? you felt healthy, didn’t you?”

“Uh…” Sans visibly mulled over that statement, considering its validity…its true meaning. “W-w-well…yeah…I felt fine.”

“i know, without a doubt…that’s all that really matters.” With a clenching chest, Papyrus softly cupped the back of Sans’s skull, cradling him in close once more. “your happiness…your safety…your well-being… that’s all that matters. you’re amazing, sans, and i know you can do anything. you have so much…potential within you. please don’t throw that away.”

At last, Sans’s round little head was tucking in, rubbing and nuzzling itself just slightly against Papyrus’s chest. Shaky arms reached out, fitting around the bottom of his ribcage, falling into the embrace, and embracing back. “P-P-P-‘Pyrus…” His breath stuttered, and he was struggling to find his words. “I’m…I’m sorry.”

“shhh.” Filled with sympathy and heartache, Papyrus curled in, briefly, gently tapping his cheekbone over the top of Sans’s skull. “love you, bro.”

“I-I-I-I…I LOVE YOU, TOO!” Sans replied, with assurance…though his voice was somewhat muffled by the loose orange hoodie.

The shudders of his tears began again, and Papyrus held him tighter, tighter, providing him with all the security he needed, though he continually squeezed back, murmuring “’Pyrus…’Pyrus…”

Several long, quiet, soothing moments slipped past, the two close, caring skeletons locked in a gentle hug of solidarity. Peace was returning to the small, clean room, to the warm little cabin in the snowy woods.

And at last, Sans found his voice…the courage, the assurance, to speak his honest, deepest feelings. Papyrus would never judge him. Papyrus would never leave him. Papyrus loved him, no matter what.

“I…I _want_ to stop. I’m so…hungry. I’m so _tired_ all the time. I hate this. But it makes me so embarrassed…to be bigger. I just want…I just want to eat what I want. I want everything to go back to normal.”

“can i ask you something…?” As he spoke, Papyrus comfortingly rubbed Sans’s back, bumping over each small vertebrae and rib. He needed to know. Before he could attempt to change things, before deciding on the direction he needed to take things, he needed to ascertain if there really was any problem… “can i ask you something, and can you answer me completely honestly? you know i would never, ever hurt you or judge you for what you say, right? so, do you think you can give me the absolute truth?”

It took a moment for Sans to really think, and Papyrus wasn’t insulted—it made sense for him to be hesitant, after all he’d been through. It wasn’t easy to put your complete trust in someone, even if they cared for you. “…Yes,” he finally decided. And with continued, reassuring rubs, Papyrus began…

“i noticed that…ever since we moved here, to snowdin, you’ve been…eating more than you used to. is there any real reason for that? or anything you think might be the reason?”

“U-Um…” Sans slowly blinked, fighting the glistening teardrops that were rising in his eye-sockets again. Shifting, he tipped back, forcing himself to look up at his brother…forcing himself to take in the gentle concern and pure affection in his expression. Letting himself know for sure that there was absolutely no ill will behind these words.

“B-Because I’m…because I’m…h-happy?” He wasn’t entirely sure, but it was what he could put together, from his memories. “Because I’m just…comfortable? I l-like it here… I get…really…happy…e-eating…”

Sans’s small, round face was so blue, between the blush that was blooming on his cheeks and the ghost trails of drying tears. But at the end, he gave a tiny, wan smile, just barely noticeable.

Papyrus definitely noticed it…and he smiled in response. Joy danced through him…relief and rejoicing. Yes—it was exactly as he’d thought. When Sans ate a lot, it was because he was _happy_ …because he was just so exuberant and eager and so settled in his surroundings. Not because anything was wrong. That was all he needed to hear.

Papyrus swept him back into his long arms and rocked him back and forth. “i’m glad. i’m so glad to hear that, sans. that’s wonderful. and there’s nothing wrong with that at all. it makes me so happy. you should. be happy, and eat…”

The release of anxiety caused a small sob to issue from Sans again…but the tears were quickly staunched, the shaking quickly eased. The heaviness in his small heart was beginning to lift…softly floating in his dear brother’s warmth. “Mweh,” came a tiny half-sigh half-chuckle.

Another tender little clack of cheekbone-on-cheekbone, and Papyrus quietly spoke, “so…you think you can eat something tomorrow? a real meal? for me, please?”

“………” Sans’s eye-sockets slid closed, and his head rested heavily, sleepily, at the center of Papyrus’s chest. So much of the tension in his poor, wrung-out body was dissipating, leaving him completely spent.

“…Y…Yeah.” That tiny, but beautiful little smile returned. “I will. Promise.”

And Papyrus was practically glowing. It was over. Everything was going to be okay…Sans was going to be okay. In this perfect, blissful moment, the rest of the universe, the energies, the barrier, the tentative nature of their very existence…nothing else mattered. The universe was only this tidy room, this soft bed, the slight weight of the limp bones against him.

Naturally, Papyrus slipped downwards, nudging himself against the soft covers that were still half-wrapped around Sans’s waist, and Sans, who had attached himself to his ribcage, came with him. Lying together, peacefully drifting away…

With a grin curling the edges of his toothy jaw, Papyrus began to softly croon. His singing voice was a strange one—a little squawky and a bit off-key…but smooth and heartfelt. He never sang, except to Sans…

“you are my sans-shine…my only sans-shine…”

“Mmfff,” Sans breathed, from somewhere beneath his comfy pile of blankets and hoodie. “’Mnot a baby ‘nymore…”

“you make me haa-ppyyyy…”

But he was nearly asleep, his cheeks warm and soft, yielding when he pushed in on the right side, in a little squishy bunch. A clear sign that he was totally relaxed and that he trusted him wholeheartedly.

Papyrus just continued the lullaby. And by the time he finished the second round of humming, Sans was deep in slumber, resting after thoroughly exhausting his body and his emotions.

Thoroughly contented and reassured, Papyrus dropped his heavy socket-lids as well, ready to just fall into comfy sleep along with him. But all of a sudden, the pocket of his shorts buzzed against his femur, giving him a surprised jolt. Thankfully, it wasn’t enough to rouse the curled-up, slumbering Sans, but with a disgruntled scowl, Papyrus realized he’d have to get it. His phone…

Carefully shifting against the bed and reaching in to slip it out from his pocket, Papyrus clicked the cell phone open, its lighted screen bathing his face in a pale glow. The envelope icon displayed a small number “41” beside it, and he sighed. Forty-one new messages. Seriously? Well, he’d been too preoccupied all day to even look at his phone…and frankly, he’d spent a majority of it sleeping off his uneasiness.

They were all from Undyne, he quickly discovered. It seemed he’d opened the floodgates for her to start talking to him again. And goodness knows, she could talk for ages once she got going. Scrolling down to the beginning, he began to read through them…

“O-ohgosh, I’m sorry if I’m bothering you by texting you!!! (blushy face) Please don’t be mad!! (big-eyes-anxiety face) But there are some important things I have to tell you, and I figured this was the quickest way to contact you! I miss texting like this! (kitty face).”

Did she really have to put her stuttering in text form? It seemed pretty pointless to him…but nevertheless, he continued reading through, sifting through her frantic, emoji-riddled messages.

Apparently, Alphys had come to visit her today—they hung out sometimes, though Papyrus had never really met Alphys himself—and she’d been incredibly worried about Sans. He hadn’t answered anything she’d sent to him, and she’d asked Undyne to try to contact the skeletons instead.

Well…he was grateful for the account she gave him, detailing everything Alphys had told her. About how weird Sans had been acting yesterday, about how he’d left training early, about how he’d practically hurt himself exercising too much. And Alphys cared. Alphys was very worried, too.

The last batch of texts was just about her progress cleaning the house and asking if they’d need anything from “There”, even if she didn’t want to go there. By the time he’d gotten through all of it, Papyrus was just too tired to give any detailed response, but he at least quickly tapped out a message, letting her know that he was talking to Sans, and he seemed to be getting a lot better now, and to let Alphys know that nothing was her fault, and that he was going to recover soon. People truly cared for the little marshmallow skelly, even if he didn’t realize it sometimes.

Tossing his phone to the carpet, so it wouldn’t bother them anymore, Papyrus closed his sockets and snuggled back down into the fluffy, mussed blankets, close and comfy with Sans. And even though the vague, background fear regarding their universe would never go away…this was a wonderful, blessed moment of respite.

And his spirit gently glided off to sleep.

(-)

The next morning was awkward…but in the best sense of the word. The uncertainty and newness of a changed dynamic, the aftermath of that outpouring…it left a haziness in the air.

When Papyrus woke up, Sans was still asleep—clearly an effect of his diminished energy and sickly state. He’d never sleep this long otherwise.

There were ten new, rambling texts from Undyne, and as Papyrus retrieved his phone and groggily half-read them, he couldn’t help but be thankful there weren’t any character limitations on their messages…though, perhaps there should be.

When Sans finally got up, much later than usual, he whined and said he was too tired to get out of bed…so Papyrus simply picked him up, tucked him into his arms, brought him downstairs, and gently set him down at the kitchen table.

True to his word, Sans _did_ indeed have breakfast. Papyrus yanked the waffle iron out with his telekinetic powers (because he sure as heck wasn’t clanking through all that himself), and made them both some waffles with honey syrup. And although he was hesitant about it at first, Sans finished his whole waffle and his glass of apple juice.

Under normal circumstances, he probably would have eaten two or three more, but for now, this was good enough. It was so encouraging…each small bite seemed to bring him back, little by little. Light and life slowly returned to his eyes and his cheeks, and he began to smile again. Papyrus couldn’t help hugging him once he was finished, even though he softly bopped him on the jaw in response. _He_ was returning…and it was just so wonderful to see. It was so heartening to see his brother’s empty plate, knowing that the magical essence was finally inside him now, supporting him.

A few minutes later, Sans was hopping from his seat, a bit of his energy back now, and returning to his room…and soon enough, he was clattering down the stairs, dressed and ready with his battle body and a toothy grin.

He insisted on Papyrus accompanying him through town, still paranoid that the local monsters would laugh at him. But the whole way, they only encountered a bear who cheerily called greetings, and the rabbit shopkeeper, who was pleased to see Sans, worried that she hadn’t encountered him in a few days.

Though Sans was excited to work on his puzzles and human traps again, Papyrus still felt a little leery. He still hadn’t fully recovered, and though he knew it would probably take a while, it still hurt to see the sickly indents below his little brother’s sockets, the barely-visible, shrunken curve of his middle.

However, once he was taking a leisurely walk back from dropping him off at the westernmost puzzle, he received a wonderful epiphany… Before reaching his usual hangout spot on a lower cliff, Papyrus passed by a familiar tan cat monster, leaning casually against his steel, wheeling griller cart. _Happy Patties_.

This cat guy had been hanging out here for a while now, though Papyrus had only just tried out one of his burgers recently. They were decent—nothing really to write home about—but the specialty of his products was the packaging. On the inside of each wrapper, he printed a cute compliment. That was what made them “Happy Patties”, he supposed. It really didn’t affect Papyrus at all, but…he knew someone they probably _would_ affect.

“Heeeeeey!” The cat adjusted his suspenders and beamed at him as he approached. “Hey, there, buddy! Can I interest you in a Happy Patty on this beautiful afternoon?”

“yes, actually.” Jamming his bony hand into his left shorts pocket, Papyrus extracted his wallet, slamming it down against the edge of the portable grill-cart and making the poor cat leap up with fright. “gimme eighteen…nah, twenty of ‘em.”

“W-What?!” The poor cat was completely flabbergasted, his face beginning to contort into crazy, twitching expressions. “Um… _Twenty_ , did you say?! You want _twenty_ burgers?!”

“ya heard me.” Papyrus stuck an unlit cigarette in his teeth and slowly, deliberately slid the required bills out of his wallet, making sure he got a good look at them… Predictably, the cat began to squirm. “twenty happy patties. get grillin’. and make sure they’re wrapped.”

“A-a-ah, y-yes! Yes, sir, right away!”

He chuckled, watching him scrambling to fire up the grill and set the imitation meat out, practically sweating behind the ears. This was gonna be great…

(-)

“i got something special for you.”

A few hours had passed, and Sans was taking a break from adjusting invisible wires, seating himself down on a pile of snow, when his lanky brother appeared, holding a bulging plastic bag out towards him.

“HMM?” His head tilted, curiosity in his brightened eyes.

Papyrus casually plopped the heavy bag of squishy burgers into his lap, and he cupped his short arms around it, looking it over with measured apprehension. One gloved arm looped through the handles, and he lifted himself back to his booted feet. His moldable face squished downward into a skeptical little frown. “’PYRUS, UM…”

“you don’t have to eat ‘em,” Papyrus quickly clarified. “but i want you to open ‘em, at least.”

“OPEN THEM?!” Sans peeked down into the bag with a raise of his brow. Monster food didn’t spoil, of course, so leaving them out uncovered wouldn’t be a big deal. But still, buying burgers for the sole purpose of unwrapping them seemed completely pointless. “YOU BOUGHT ME A BUNCH OF HAMBURGERS JUST SO THAT I COULD TAKE THE WRAPPINGS OFF?! CONGRATULATIONS, YOU’VE JUST DISCOVERED THE GREATEST WASTE OF G! THOUGH I REALLY SHOULDN’T HAVE EXPECTED ANY MORE FROM YOU…”

Papyrus snorted. “nah. there’s totally a point. see, there’s a special secret message just for you on the inside of each one…and you gotta open ‘em to read it.”

“PFF, I HIGHLY DOUBT THAT. THIS IS JUST SOME LITTLE PLOY YOU’VE SCHEMED UP TO TRY TO GET ME TO EAT MORE…” Sans shook his skull, but he gave a sad grin, shrugging and holding the bag out. His shoulder-pads and his scarf shifted against the bottom of his jawbone. “ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT, I SUPPOSE I CAN INDULGE YOU AND AT LEAST ACKNOWLEDGE YOUR EFFORTS.”

Papyrus shoved his hands deep into his hoodie pockets, hiding his excitement, as Sans plopped the bag down into the snow and pulled out the first burger. In fact, he’d actually picked out the wrapper sayings himself, as the Happy Patty Guy grilled them, making sure they were good, relevant ones. In his sight, he zeroed in on the darkness in Sans’s sockets, which he could see even more in his profile, even while he smiled… He hoped with all his heart that they could help him…

With a dramatic flair, Sans pulled the crinkly paper from the burger, giving it a little emphatic flick, and deposited the exposed burger back into the bag. “A ‘MESSAGE’, HUH…?” He flipped it over, his wide eyes scanning over it… and his mouth gaped open a tiny bit as he read, aloud…

“LOVE YOURSELF. I LOVE YOU.”

“…a special message for you. told ya.”

“AH…” Sans was actually speechless. With a slightly shaking hand, he bent and reached for another little squishy bundle. This time, the wrapper came off much faster.

“YOUR EYES ARE MORE BEAUTIFUL THAN ALL THE STARS.”

Another one. “YOU ARE SPECIAL. YOU ARE LOVED. YOU ARE WANTED.”

Papyrus’s teeth rubbed against each other as he watched with shielded, affectionate sockets. Sans stood there, unwrapping more and more, reading them out, his voice gradually beginning to waver and falter.

“YOU’RE LOOKING BRILLIANT TODAY. LET OTHERS SEE THAT SHINE.”

“OFFICIAL PERMISSION TO TREAT YOURSELF TODAY.”

“LET’S SEE THAT STELLAR SMILE OF YOURS.”

“THIS IS JUST A REMINDER THAT Y…YOUR BODY IS…GORGEOUS J-JUST THE…the way it is now…”

The crinkly wrappers shaking in his gloves, Sans began to tear up, a blue bubble of liquid beading at the edge of his left socket.

“I KNOW…I know you can do anything. Never give up.”

“Fun fact—your cuteness level is off the charts.”

On and on…the loving, encouraging, uplifting messages just continued, each new one sinking into Sans’s heart. He smiled, he blushed, and joyous tears dropped from the lower curves of his cheekbones, blotting onto the pristine snow and creating tiny splatters of pallid blue. By the time he reached the final burgers in the bag, he was outright crying, struggling to speak through shaky little breaths.

“N-no matter what th-they say, y-your soul is…w-w-worth everything.”

“Always…remember y-your life is w-worthwhile. I-I’m so glad…y-you were…b-born…”

Sans let the last remaining wrapper drift from the ends of his fingers…and turned to Papyrus, inner eyes so bright, so full of overwhelming emotion, so large and teary, they nearly filled his entire sockets. “P-P…’Pyrus…”

“it’s all true.” Papyrus almost whispered. And a second later, he was tackled into a forceful hug around his waist.

Just as before, he waited a moment for Sans to let everything out, just supporting his tiny frame.

“Thank you,” he mumbled against him. “Thank you, thank you…” His hugs turned into slight snuggles. “I’ll…I’ll never forget. I’ll never forget again.”

Papyrus grasped him under the arms and lifted him into the air, making him suddenly gasp and burst out—“EE! MWEEHEEHEEHEEHEE!!” One quick spin, and more squeaks of delight, and Sans was clinging to his upper half, laughing and crying and exuding his special, soft, innocent light. Precious Sans. Precious little Sans would never be lost again.

After several happy minutes of holding each other and murmuring to each other, Sans finally climbed down, face dried and heart calmed. He gave one of his signature huge, stretching grins, dollops of blue gracing his cheeks…and suddenly, a low, quiet growling noise rolled out from him.

“MWEHEH. I SUPPOSE I WILL HAVE ONE OF THOSE BURGERS AFTER ALL! I NEED FUEL FOR MY GREATNESS! IT MAKES PREFECT SENSE!”

Papyrus nearly cheered out loud when Sans scooped a burger out of the bag and merrily squished it in between his teeth. “HMM. NOT TOO BAD, I DO DECLARE!”

“so…you feel better now?”

“GREATLY SO!” Sans materialized his stubby tongue, carefully licking at the edge of the burger, so as not to let any of its ketchup drip out onto his bandana. “IT SEEMS YOUR MESSAGE-BURGERS WERE HIGHLY EFFECTIVE! PERHAPS I SHOULD USE BURGERS TO DELIVER MESSAGES SOMETIME, MYSELF!”

And Papyrus genuinely laughed—his first one in quite a while.

His reassured little brother continued munching through the burger, softened cheek-bones puffing slightly, and as he looked at him, he remembered. Everything was so comfortable between them now—everything so open and true. He couldn’t keep this forever. He was going to do this.

“sans…” Papyrus cringed at the sound of his own voice. Sans glanced up, questioningly, from the burger, only a few bites left now. “…there’s something else i gotta tell you.”

“ABOUT HOW AMAZING I AM?!” His big-toothed grin was irresistible…but he couldn’t let that stop him.

“well, yes, you are amazing, but it’s something different.”

Was he truly ready to commit himself to this? Well, it didn’t really matter. He’d already gone and got Undyne involved. This was just the next step. The point of no return, from which there would be no turning back.

Intensely curious, Sans stuffed the remaining bundle of burger into his mouth, chewing and staring at him with huge, sparkly eye-lights.

“um…well…you see… i’m doing a sort of… i’ve started on a kind of… i guess you might call it an experiment?”

“MMMMPH!!” Sans leaped forward, flailing his arms and practically choking down the burger mass in his mouth. “AMPH—A…A-AN EXPERIMENT?! IN COMPLETE HONESTY?! YOU’RE ACTUALLY DOING AN _EXPERIMENT_ AGAIN?!”

“uh, yeh.” Papyrus tugged at the strings of his hoodie. It was a little embarrassing—he hadn’t expected him to be so crazily excited about it. “i guess so.”

“THAT’S AWESOME!!!” The small, hyper skeleton bobbed up and down, clutching his hands at his bandana. “AAAAAAAH!! I’M SO PROUD OF YOU, ‘PYRUS! THAT’S EXCELLENT NEWS! OHMYGOD, THAT’S AMAZING! WE SHOULD CELEBRATE!”

“whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on there, bro.” Though he chuckled, Papyrus held a hand out to catch Sans’s skull as he came hurdling towards him. A drop of nervous sweat trailed down his long skull to his neck. “’m not done yet. just wait…”

“AH—AH…!” At his request, Sans tried his hardest to rein himself in, though it was obvious that he was just burning inside with a thousand questions.

Papyrus took in a long, steadying breath. “well…i can’t give you all the details yet, cause it’s kinda top-secret…” A little white lie of avoidance wouldn’t hurt… “but…i tested out a hypothesis of mine the other night. there was something i wanted to try… and it worked.”

“THAT’S SOOOOOO GREAT!” Sans exuberantly smacked his side, up near his shoulder, in praise. “I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT, BUT IT’S GREAT!!”

“eheh, thanks. but, um…you see…i…used your magic to do it.”

“HUH?” At those last words, Sans paused, though his smile didn’t falter. “HOW DID YOU…?”

“that’s…why you woke up hungry again, even after, um…that night. i siphoned some of your magic while you were asleep, using it, along with mine, to run a test…”

Sans listened, maybe not entirely understanding, but trying his best to figure it out anyway.

“my magic alone isn’t sufficient. i needed yours to complete the test…it requires a _ton_ of magic, more than anything else i’ve ever done. so…i’m sorry i just took it from you without even asking. and…i’m going to need to run the same sort of test again…and i’ll need your magic again for that. this time, i’ll definitely ask you first. and i guess…i’m asking you now. if you could help me…”

“MY…MAGIC…?” Shy and curious, Sans glanced downward…and the edges of his fingers brushed against the little pad of his belly. “EVERYTHING THAT GETS STORED IN HERE…THE EXTRANEOUS ENERGY AND SUCH… YOU NEED IT FOR AN IMPORTANT EXPERIMENT? YOU NEED ME TO STORE A LOT OF IT, SO YOU CAN USE IT…?”

“uh, yeah…” Papyrus shrugged, concealing his nervousness. “well, you don’t _have_ to, you never _have_ to, but, uh…”

The gears in Sans’s mind were clacking and grinding, crunching out a clear answer, taking all of this information in and processing it. Fearfully, it occurred to Papyrus that this could make him think he’d encouraged him to eat again because he needed to use him. No, no, this was all bad timing—he better not think that at all! How was he going to disprove it…?

“WHY…WHY DIDN’T YOU STOP ME EARLIER?!” Sans released his small sack of softness, spreading out his arms and indignantly tapping one foot. “YOU _NEEDED_ ALL MY EXTRA MAGIC FATNESS, AND YOU JUST LET ME WASTE IT?!”

“w-well, it’s your body,” Papyrus quickly replied. God, he hadn’t anticipated this reaction at all…his little brother was definitely unpredictable. “it was your decision, what you wanted to do with it, and if you really wanted to diet, i’d support you. but…the way you were hurting yourself like that, i just couldn’t stand by anymore. it has nothing to do with what i need or anything—it has everything to do with your well-being.”

Puffing his cheeks in an angry but adorable expression, Sans firmly crossed his arms, stomping his foot even more. “WELL, I WISH YOU HAD _TOLD_ ME! YOU SHOULDN’T KEEP SO MANY SECRETS, ‘PYRUS—I’M ALWAYS TELLING YOU!”

“i know…”

And then…Sans did the truly unexpected. Decidedly, he plopped himself down into the snow, crossing his legs and making himself comfortable…and he yanked another burger out of the bag, shoving it into his mouth.

“sans…?”

“I MUSHT REGAIN ALLA MY LOSHT MAGIC NOW, MUSHN’T I? He spoke through his stuffed cheekbones, swiftly fishing out a second burger. A quick, forceful swallow. “IF I CAN BE OF HELP IN YOUR EXPERIMENTS, ‘PYRUS…IF I CAN HELP YOU IN GETTING BACK ON YOUR FEET, NOW THAT IT’S ACTUALLY HAPPENING… IF, JUST BY DOING THIS, I CAN MAKE SUCH SPECTACULAR PROGRESS, I’M GONNA DO EVERYTHING I CAN!”

While he couldn’t deny that a spark of joy lit deep inside him, Papyrus knew better than to get his hopes up. “are you really sure? i really don’t want you to upset yourself or anything…”

“SURE I’M SURE! GOOD GOLLY GOSH, I’M ONE THOUSAND PERCENT CERTAIN!” Sans opened his jaw as wide as it would go and took the biggest bite of burger he could muster, only leaving one small scrap. “MMMMMGMMHMBLMMMMM!!”

And Papyrus laughed again, from the sheer release of it all. He couldn’t believe that, after all that pain and suffering, Sans wanted to regain his weight, because he needed it. This…was simply the way Sans showed his love for his older brother in return.

In no time at all, he’d downed the first two burgers, probably still feeling deprived. He was eating so fast, fueled by his own willpower and the vast, deep hunger left over from his semi-starvation period.

After a few minutes, Papyrus lazily kicked up a mound of snow and laid himself down in it, beside him.

Sans was dutifully munching through fluffy buns and grilled meat and crunchy lettuce…smooth, drippy condiments… It looked like…he really was enjoying it, too. Burgers weren’t his favorite things in the world, but they were still pretty damn good, especially considering how little he’d been eating lately.

When he reached over for his fifth one, Papyrus could clearly see the little mound of his tummy pushing up…nice and gently round, like it should be. The magic energy was gathering inside him again, warm and pulsing with nourishing potential. And Sans definitely felt it himself.

He paused a moment, taking out the pile of encouraging wrappers and spreading most of them out on the snow in front of him and around him. And each time he gently, happily consumed another burger, he read a statement.

Sweet Sans… His cheekbones glowed, flush with healthfulness once more. He smiled and beamed and chuckled to himself, enjoying the wonderful feelings of soft food magic tucking itself down into his belly-sack once more. It was almost like he was consuming the words themselves…taking them in, letting them settle, absorbing them into his very being and letting them fill him up…all the love and happiness.

If a belly could simply look happy, then Sans’s definitely did. At seven burgers, it pressed tightly at his shirt, eagerly awaiting release. And at ten burgers, it began to peek its way out, revealing a glowing, blushy strip of bulgy blue…and even humming a tiny gurgly noise as if…grateful. So grateful. So, so glad to be nicely filled again.

Though he hotly blushed, and tried to bury some of his shame, Sans reached forward and flicked his pants button open, letting his growing and re-growing tummy fully puff out and relax. He even patted it a little bit, a somewhat fond look in his soft eye-lights. It was good to be so full again, after such horrible, unbearable hunger.

Sans shivered and thrilled and fumbled out two more burgers. He couldn’t really be planning to eat all of them, Papyrus worriedly doubted. Twenty burgers was even more than his last taco binge, and that had been when he was a bit chubbier. Another went in...

Papyrus popped over to the Happy Patty stand and grabbed fistfuls of condiments, popping back to offer him some mustard or mayonnaise or something a little different. He grateful took them, honestly getting a little sick of ketchup by now.

Number twelve…number thirteen…number fourteen… With each one, the bulging bubble of his swirling blue belly seemed to nudge out a little bit farther, a tiny bit tighter.

“U-Uh…MM- _burrp_!” All of a sudden, the sound popped out of him, and he pressed a proffered napkin to his teeth. “E-EXCUSE ME! I AM REQUIRED TO PRODUCE THE GROSS NOISES IN ORDER TO CREATE ENOUGH SPACE NOW. I’M SORRY. .. _rrurp_!”

“ahahaha,” Papyrus carefully chuckled, making sure it sounded like a friendly laugh. “of course. so… do you…not mind if you get fat now, if it’s for me?”

“MMMPH, NO, NO!” Sans moved as if to lift himself up, but he couldn’t exactly do that so easily now, and he just rolled back into place. Another bite of burger was pushed into him. “I DUN CARE! ‘MGONNA DO IT! I’LL BE THE FATTEST SHKELETIN THERE EBBER WASH!!”

“ha, i’m sure you would be, if you set your mind to it.”

“AND YOUR ESHPERRAMENT IS GONNA BE A MASSHIVE SHUSHSESSSH!”

“quiet. don’t talk with your mouth full—you might choke. and that just wouldn’t be very ful _filling_ …”

A mustard packet bounced off of Papyrus’s forehead, and he continued to chuckle. Sans was himself again. Sans was giving his all for him. This was the happiest day he could remember in this timeline thus far.

Fifteen…and Sans was beginning to struggle now. Gingerly, he leaned himself back, spreading out his legs and stretching, carefully supporting his burgeoning middle. Yet, he just took a slow, deep breath, and slid the next burger to his tired jaw.

“ _H-Hic_! _Uhhp_!” Small hiccup-burps of labored digestion emitted from him, once the sixteenth had squished itself inside. With one slightly trembling hand, he pulled his shirt the rest of the way up, sitting the fabric at the little shelf just below his chest area, where his tummy bulged out from him…and he massaged into the side of it a little. There was still terrible, burning embarrassment in his expression, but…also something else. A strange kind of hazy desire.

A grin flickered to his cheeks for just a moment, and he huffed and pressed yet another burger to his face. The blue bandana around his neck acted as an effective bib, catching the tiny crumbs that tumbled off when he inevitably overestimated his mouth’s capacity. Seventeen. “ _Uff…lp_!” And then…slowly…eighteen.

Sans’s tummy was a round, heavy ball of gentle, drifting cyan blue, densely packed, yet lazily churning and gurgling with oversaturation. Ripe and firm with so much healthful magic energy... Yet, Sans panted, further reclining himself…and reached again for the near-empty bag.

“um, don’t hurt yourself, though,” Papyrus concernedly warned. “it’s not worth it.”

“Uh-uh… _h-hic_! I can…get it. It’s…f-fine…” And to his utter amazement…he truly did.

With a blissful, dazed expression, Sans gripped the last two burgers in his hands…and slowly, indulgently pushed them into him, bit by bit…little bite by little bite. His quiet voice moaned and groaned a few times, and he paused here and there to burp, rubbing around certain parts of the huge mound, coaxing out any remaining pockets of air and helping more bundles of magic slip and squeeze themselves inside. Lying almost fully on his back, he gave it all the room it needed…and the bulbous mass could be seen to slightly shudder, stretching out to its limits.

At long last, when the final piece of burger managed to convert and slide its way down, Sans let out the biggest sigh he could, grasping his utterly stuffed belly around its bulgy, widened sides. “ _Ooofff_! _Ughhhhhh…ic!_ ”

Papyrus scrambled over in a second, kneeling at his side and slightly shaking his head. “jeez…did ya give yourself a stomachache?”

“N-n-no… _fff_ … _Hrp_! Uh…yes…” Sans firmly closed his eye-sockets, gently rocking himself, as if trying to ease some of the pain. “B-b-but I did it!”

“eheh. you certainly did. color me impressed.”

Curiously, Papyrus touched the palm of his bony hand to the curving outward surface of his brother’s engorged little tummy. So much bubbling and buzzing in there…it was probably unprepared to deal with such a massive deposit of magic after being virtually empty for so long.

“Mmmmmaybe I…w-went a little overboard,” Sans admitted, his voice winded.

“it’s a likely possibility.” Papyrus gave a very light, nudging pat, causing a few tiny ripples under the tight, rubbery surface. “that’s you, though—always giving everything one hundred and twenty-five percent. while i’ll be lucky to reach five percent, heheh.”

“N-N-No, no!” Despite his huffing, Sans insistently swatted his hand. “You, don’t say that! You’re doing— _ehp_!—experiments now! You’re really putting in an effort! I’m so— _ip_!—happy!!”

“i’m happy, too…” Papyrus’s gaze lingered on his brother’s over-bloated form, now flat on his back, letting that tummy poke up into the air. And he gathered up the dropped wrappers, carefully piling them on top of each other. Noticing the movement, Sans puffed out that he wanted to save them, so he folded and packed them carefully into the empty burger bag, tying its handle-loops into a small knot at the end. A small parcel of happy.

Then, before he could overthink it, he stretched up and bent over him…very gently, very carefully scooping him into his long arms, gingerly lifting him up and cradling him. Sans hiccup-burped a few more times, due to the light jostling, but he managed to hang on, steadying the top portion of his belly with his hands.

“i’m taking you back to rest for a little while,” Papyrus declared. “if you really wanna come back later, be my guest, but for now, you gotta rest yourself.”

“I-I’m so fat…” Sans quietly spoke, though with only a twinge of sadness. His arms and legs tucked in around and over him, so that he very much resembled a cloudy, illuminated ball of blue and marshmallow white. “What if I get too fat for you to carry me anymore?”

“not possible.” For just a second, Papyrus’s right eye-socket twinkled. It was true—someone could never be too heavy, when you had soul telekinesis. And he sincerely doubted Sans would ever get to that point, anyway.

“though…i do think it’s about time for that new set of clothes i made.” With the tip of one finger-bone, he poked at one open flap of his pants, stretching tight around the inflated underbelly.

“Eh…mweheh… Yes, I suppose so… _hlp_!”

Papyrus took a long, roundabout way of getting home, mindful of the townsfolk and Sans’s humiliation at their staring. At this time, it was a bit too risky to teleport with him, as well. If anything went slightly off-balance, he could go flying out of his arms…and that would end very badly for both of them. But fortunately, the snow cover was soft and cushioning, the landscape peaceful and barren.

The apprehension had never left him, but…everything just felt so much better now, so much more settled. A path was set before him, and while this path had an unknowable end, the fact that it was there, pushing him along, driving him towards a goal…it was a welcome feeling he hadn’t experienced in a long, long time. Undyne would support him. Sans would support him. And even if this whole thing blew up and destroyed all of their lives, it was wonderful for the time being. This timeline was definitely very different from all the rest…

With a glance down, Papyrus noticed Sans’s face… It wasn’t pained or self-conscious like he’d anticipated… Instead, he looked…very, very content. Peaceful, blissful, beyond satiated… His gloved finger-bones were stroking fondly over the bulgy, cresting curve of his tummy, which gratefully glowed and glurped underneath. One black and neon blue crack opened beneath one socket, questioningly looking up to him.

“…It’s a secret…but… I…like this, ‘Pyrus.” Sans’s voice was so small, as if afraid of itself. “It…f-feels…nice. I’m not sure why. But…I was denying it before. I was scared. But…but not anymore. Cause…I can be of great help to you this way. Mmm…”

He stroked his tummy one last time, and tucked his head in close to Papyrus’s chest, fully, completely relaxing, giving himself up to the soft pleasure of his own overindulgence. “This is…going to be awesome.”

Looking back to the frozen expanse before him, in his heart, Papyrus couldn’t help but agree. Whatever this was, wherever it led… This journey was bound to be like nothing he’d ever seen before.

 


End file.
